“… yet he did not leave himself without a witness by doing good, by giving you rain from heaven and fruitful seasons, satisfying you with food and your hearts with joy.” (Acts 14:17)
The artist filled his canvas with pewter clouds, and anything alive hid from the storm. He smeared his finger sideways, mixing white and gray with a gusty stroke. Then his masterpiece napped as a snowy blanket floated down, and left only hints of the contours below. Serenity waltzed with beauty.
Beads from the night’s rain clung to spring grass. Sunlight lit every drop until they radiated colors from the spectrum—rubies and emeralds cast among diamonds. Each bead sang a perfect solo—together, they made a glorious chorus.
Chest high ears of durum wheat stood in the summer warmth. The field smelled of tilled earth and nutty kernels. An interruption rustled among the stocks. Rows of wheat bowed their heads as an invisible personage blew past—perhaps their wonderful King.
“Honk, honk,” bicycle horns squeezed overhead. A vee formation of trumpeter geese soared through the pines, white necks stretched into conifer-green. The elegant friends laughed their way southward. “We’re playing tag, and winter is chasing us. Honk, honk.”
It’s all too wonderful. Creation, with its seasonal faces, envelops me in God’s splendor. God is not nature any more than I’m a song I write or a sandcastle I build. But in what he has made, I learn something of his wild creativity and his passionate joy.
Prayer: Alpha and Omega, your creation fills me with joy for who you are.