Two years
ago I sensed God calling me to take special notice of sunrises and
sunsets. I had always enjoyed their
beauty and had many memorable sunsets or sunrises, especially when traveling
and I had time to focus on the beginning or ending of each day.
I will
never be able to forget the sunset I saw from the rooftop of my hotel in
Rome. I was all alone because my family
was tired after a long day of touring and decided to take a nap before
dinner. I was in Rome! I could not sleep so I ventured up to the
roof. What was so amazing about this
sunset was that earlier in the day I had seen the Sistine Chapel, but that
masterpiece could not compare to the sights and sounds of the masterpiece in
the sky. I loved sharing sunrises and
sunsets with my husband in magical places like Hawaii and even at home in
Dallas. Two years ago during Lent, God
called me to catch as many sunrises and sunsets as I was able. I learned a lot during that time. I learned that God does not always give us a
glorious sunrise or sunset. Before then,
I figured I had just missed the magical transformations in the horizon. Waiting and watching every day, I learned
that God doesn’t paint His masterpieces every day. The ancients pointed out that day after day
of sunshine creates a desert. We need a
little absence as well as variety to appreciate the wonder and the mystery of
God’s glorious creation. I believe God
teaches us about Himself as we ponder the heavens.
Colossians
1:16, 20 says it so eloquently, For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth,
visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all
things have been created through him and for him…and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on
earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross. When God created the heavens and the
earth, He created a thin line between them.
The priest in the Greek Orthodox Church prays over the bread for the
communion (Eucharist) in many different ways; one of the prayers that he prays
is for those who are in Christ including the living and the dead. When someone was explaining the prayer to me,
he stated that there is a thin line between the living and the dead who are in
Christ. The greater separation is
between the living and the dead who are not in Christ. I have experienced this reality in a deeper
way since my husband now resides in heaven.
Bernard of Clairvaux stated: I can
never lose one whom I have loved unto the end; one to whom my soul cleaves so
firmly that it can never be separated does not go away but only goes before…The
heavens at sunrise and sunset remind me of this thin line of separation. At those few moments every day, I remember
that something purposeful, meaningful and more glorious than I could ever begin
to understand is happening in heaven and on the earth. I can barely comprehend what is happening on
my side; I will need a totally redeemed brain to grasp what is happening in
heaven. Heaven and the earth are both
equally important to God and are connected by a thin line of separation from
God’s perspective.
This thin
line of separation is a place of hope. When
I look into the horizon, whether on a cloud- covered day or on a picturesque
panorama, my soul is drawn to the mysterious and amazing God who insists on
revealing His glory to me and teaches me to pray daily, thinking about heaven
and earth. I really live when I become
aware of this thin line of separation; it brings my life, hope, purpose and
direction.
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