Wednesday, August 01, 2007

His Handiwork

I work in the middle of a high desert. We have to ride on a bus for almost an hour to get to work. This morning as I walked from the bus depot to my building, the sunrise was beautiful and awe-inspiring. The top of the dome of the sky was blue, but all along the rim of the sky were muted purples and pinks. As a side effect of Western fires, the eastern horizon blazed with orange and pink as the sun peeked out over the Teton Mountains and bathed the desert in early morning light.

There were a smattering of clouds to reflect some of the vivid colors of the dawn. It was just at the time when separate rays of sunshine could be discerned, flashing out to declare the coming of something powerful.

The sights this morning were beautiful enough. Coupled with the fresh clear air filling my lungs, peace radiated out from this.

Ah, God's glory is evident in his creation. I was struck by the fact that the sunrise was so beautiful to look at, but I could only gaze so long before averting my eyes to prevent damage from our star. Just now I am starting to blink away the phantom image from daring to look just a little longer at the sight. So is God in His majesty. We look for Him, to Him. We hold on as hard as we can, yet we cannot fully know His splendor because it is too much for us. Still, we dare a peek, we try to grasp something of the transcendent to hold with us in our earth-bound lives.

Thank you Lord for the way You speak silently, in just the beauty and stillness of a desert morning.

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they display knowledge.
There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard.
Their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world. In the heavens he has pitched a tent for the sun, which is like a bridegroom coming forth from his pavilion, like a champion rejoicing to run his course. It rises at one end of the heavens and makes its circuit to the other; nothing is hidden from its heat.
Psalm 19:1-6

(Post best read while listening to contemplative music like Mark Heard)

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