The view from the middle
As I was heading north on the Midbay bridge after work today, the skies were dark and threatening to the east but the sun was still shining to the west.
The stormy blue background was the perfect backdrop for the boats that were gleaming brilliantly in the sun’s rays. The sky made the boats look whiter. The boats made the sky look darker.
It was beautiful.
The texture of the surface of the bay changed as I headed across the bridge. Lightly disturbed waves gave way to a glassy smooth expanse of water that reflected the storm clouds. If the water had been solid so I could run my hand across the surface, I am certain it would have felt like satin, cool and slick.
It occurred to me that the things that reflect the sun’s light most beautifully are the things set in dark places.
It’s true in our lives, too.
It can be tempting to attempt to avoid dark places. It’s as if we’re afraid we’ll be contaminated by the shadows.
But the Light in you is so much greater than the dark of the world. Jesus said so.
He was right. He always is.
We run into the dark to spoil it, to shine relentlessly and reflect all the goodness of the One whose infinite love and power fills us. Our willingness to touch, love, embrace the untouchable, unloveable, unembraceable sets us apart from weaker lights powered by weaker powers.
And I wonder…if our hearts were on the outside and someone ran their hands across them, what would they feel like? Would they bear the sharp edges of judgment? Would they be prickly like a porcupine of fear? Or would they feel warm and inviting like a well-tended fire? Would they feel like a giant feather mattress, a safe place to fall?
Beauty and glory can come in so many different forms.