His Majesty
I stare in wonder at his majesty, gazing into the vastness of the heavens,
watching the dancing night sky. Contemplating the stars above, I
consider my place, my purpose in God's eyes.
This world he has created, so full of beauty and life. I feel as though
I am just a speck, a mite compared to the wonder of his realm.
I think of the gift He has given me, the gift of himself, his life.
Now, I too can understand the willingness to
give my life for a friend.
I can even imagine giving my life for a stranger.
But Jesus did not just die so that I could live.
What he suffered went beyond physical pain.
He piled all of the evils, all the shame, the regrets, and the horrors
of humanity on his blameless shoulders.
And hung, completely alone, on the cross.
And in his greatest moment of torment...
God turned away from him.
How could I even begin to imagine that
sensation. No human alive, from creation to the end of time, has
ever been away from God's gaze.
Even in my most desperate times, He has
been there, giving his comfort and love. I wonder why he
chose to suffer for me, for what have I done to deserve it?
Then introspection vanishes as a streak of green fire races across the sky.
Before it fades into the night, another flame flushes up from the
tree line, a game of follow the leader among the stars.
Aurora Borealis, the northern lights.
Simple refractions of light, a combination of shifting
elements with no purpose or monetary value.
In the rush of living, the hurry of life, time seems to pass too slowly.
Yet, looking back, I wonder where all the time has gone.
I remember the other half of the story, after Christ's death. He
was taken from the cross, wrapped in linen, and sealed up in a
cave. His followers mourned him. His mother mourned him. For those
who followed his teachings, there was only emptiness left.
I have said goodbye to loved ones, and watched as their caskets were
lowered from sight. How much more the agony to watch as the one
whom I believe to be my God, is hidden away, forever, in
the dark recesses of a tomb?
Another ribbon of vibrance snaps ghost-like above me.
These empherial wisps, brilliant only with gaze averted. When looked on directly,
they vanish like the reflections on a pond when a cloud passes over.
I begin to wonder if they were ever really there.
And as I watch the bands
of emerald flitter and flicker above me, I begin to understand why God
would create such beauty. A token of his love, as real and as true as the
promise in a rainbow... and the death of his son. And I rejoice as
the final chapter of Christ's death fills my mind.
I imagine that morning, so cold that breath freezes in the air.
Fingers clench around handfuls of spices and perfumes. Several women
approach the tomb, the final resting place of their Saviour.
But what do they see?
No pall of death hangs over this meadow! Instead, an angel, flaming
bright as a light of heaven, guards an empty tomb!
And suddenly, more glorious than memory, appears Jesus, alive!
Flinging their arms wide in celebration, the women praise God for his wondrous miracle.
Thousands of years later, I stand on my deck and stare into a
dancing sky, and contemplate my place in God's plan.
I may wait years for an answer to my questions,
I may never know the answers to them all. I do know,
that a long time ago,
a man who was God, thought I was special enough to die for.
My eyes follow the lights in the sky.
they are only lights. Yet I stand, jaws agape, and stare in wonder.
And each of us in our hearts, believes we are the only ones to see this stunning beauty,
this display of light for our benefit alone.
This silent fire, a gift of the heavens, a tribute
to His Majesty.