Blue Sky
I saw blue sky for the first time in three days today. I was sitting at my computer, plugging away, when I grew annoyed by the glare on my screen. Then I realized the glare was blue, and I quickly spun around in my chair, eager to pull up my shade and drink in the sun I had been missing for several days.
The glare has now grown to a full-fledged shadow. I can hardly see my screen, but I can’t bear to shut the blinds. For some reason, I find the sun particularly soothing today. I can almost forget that in a few months I won’t have a job. The bright light somehow dims my fears, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.
But as I squint at my computer, a thought creeps in like the warm sunlight hitting the back of my neck. I am reminded of God’s consistency. Unlike me, He doesn’t change. Even when I think He has. Even when He takes His palm and rubs out the carefully laid plans I had made.
He doesn’t do it to be mean. In fact, it’s just the opposite. He does it so I will know that He is in control, that His ways are higher than mine. My mind is grounded here on earth, my eyes can only see what is right in front of them, and even then sometimes I miss it. But God can see the whole picture. A picture that would blind me.
So what does this have to do with a glare on my computer screen? Those soggy days preceding this moment had grown tiresome. Driving to work at six in the morning, I have groaned at the increasingly long trail of brake lights and grown frustrated by the windshield wipers smearing rain across my windshield. The gray sky enveloped everything, and stole away the sunsets and sunrises I enjoyed so much.
But I never doubted that the sun was still there, and that it would eventually reappear. God does the same. I can’t see Him, and sometimes I can’t feel Him. I don’t hear His audible voice, and I long for Him to physically hold me.
But I know He’s there. He will reappear. Maybe not physically, but one day I will look back on this time and maybe see a piece of His plan. I know He will continue to provide, though probably not in the ways I ask for.
Why else would He evoke such joy from a glare on my computer screen?
I saw blue sky for the first time in three days today. I was sitting at my computer, plugging away, when I grew annoyed by the glare on my screen. Then I realized the glare was blue, and I quickly spun around in my chair, eager to pull up my shade and drink in the sun I had been missing for several days.
The glare has now grown to a full-fledged shadow. I can hardly see my screen, but I can’t bear to shut the blinds. For some reason, I find the sun particularly soothing today. I can almost forget that in a few months I won’t have a job. The bright light somehow dims my fears, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.
But as I squint at my computer, a thought creeps in like the warm sunlight hitting the back of my neck. I am reminded of God’s consistency. Unlike me, He doesn’t change. Even when I think He has. Even when He takes His palm and rubs out the carefully laid plans I had made.
He doesn’t do it to be mean. In fact, it’s just the opposite. He does it so I will know that He is in control, that His ways are higher than mine. My mind is grounded here on earth, my eyes can only see what is right in front of them, and even then sometimes I miss it. But God can see the whole picture. A picture that would blind me.
So what does this have to do with a glare on my computer screen? Those soggy days preceding this moment had grown tiresome. Driving to work at six in the morning, I have groaned at the increasingly long trail of brake lights and grown frustrated by the windshield wipers smearing rain across my windshield. The gray sky enveloped everything, and stole away the sunsets and sunrises I enjoyed so much.
But I never doubted that the sun was still there, and that it would eventually reappear. God does the same. I can’t see Him, and sometimes I can’t feel Him. I don’t hear His audible voice, and I long for Him to physically hold me.
But I know He’s there. He will reappear. Maybe not physically, but one day I will look back on this time and maybe see a piece of His plan. I know He will continue to provide, though probably not in the ways I ask for.
Why else would He evoke such joy from a glare on my computer screen?
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