triste ambulant – day 28

image

“This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.” John 11:4

                                            ————————————————————————

On sunny summer days, I can stand on my front porch and see – with my eyes – hundreds of trees, tens of thousands of blades of grass, all kinds of plants and bushes, birds galore, a few stray cats and dogs, a blue sky that extends from horizon to horizon, a sun that is big, yellow, and warm, zillions of bugs buzzing and crawling everywhere, and red dirt with little rocks of all shapes and sizes in it.

Late on warm summer nights I can stand on my front porch and see – with my eyes – thousands of blinking blue and white stars, usually a moon and a few planets, galaxies, the Milky Way, the North Star, maybe a shooting star or two, and a bunch of oddly shaped constellations.

All with my eyes. I can see it all up there and out there. With my eyes.

But you know what? What I know – I have been taught this and I believe it – is that there is so much more. What I see with my own eyes is just a modicum of what is really out there. What I see with my eyes doesn’t even scratch the surface. It doesn’t even begin to tell the whole story.

There are systems upon systems of life cycles all spinning and whirring around me in my neighborhood, up in the trees, out in the grass of my yard, and on and down in the dirt. There are all kinds of microbes and tiny critters that can only be seen with a microscope out there in the yard and in the bushes and inside of the birds and animals and running up and down the veins of the trees and down in the dirt. All busy and working and processing and existing and sustaining.

And up in the sky at night – billions and billions of stars and planets and black holes and spirals and gases and solar winds and radiation belts and asteroids and so much more all somehow sustaining itself with gravity and inertia and atomic reactions and explosions and balance.

All of these things are what I can’t see with my own eyes – layer after layer after layer of complex interdependent churning vibrant organized existence. And I can’t see it with my own eyes.

Are there other ways to see?

(Job 9)

· Leave a comment. Posted in regina's rest, stimple, triste ambulant.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *