The arctic cold generates a fine, frozen mist that hovers above the earth and glitters like stardust fallen to earth. As I drive to work in the morning, it swirls in my headlights. It dims the half-moon above, and the city lights shoot heavenward in glowing columns against the frozen air. It is a beautiful sight, distracting me from yet another commute on the perils of a highway slick with black ice.
I think about parallels in my spiritual life... how sometimes the mist blurs my view of God, and an icy glaze forms over my heart. Like black ice, it can come without warning, stealthily, invisibly--until suddenly I'm headed for the ditch.
That happened recently--figuratively--as disappointment over a delayed desire and frustration about a relationship caused my spiritual temperature to drop, sending me into a skid. I stuck it out, though, reading the Bible and praying.
It took a midnight wakening with jaw clenched and muscles taut with tension to bring me face down in child pose before God.
Surrender. Peace. Joy.
Like the first warm breath of spring.
1 comment:
ahhh the ebb and flow of a saint's walk.
I look forward to our heavenly home when we will no longer encounter those times of black ice and detours into the ditch!
Post a Comment