I took my dog out last night. My mind was busy, and truth be told, as I made the short walk home I was assessing frost heaves in the asphalt. Then for a brief moment I glanced into the skies and saw them. Northern lights. I caught my breath in awe as they danced above me. And I lingered there for some time in silent wonder. Because no matter how many times I see them, they never get old. And as I sat there and watched the heavenly theatrics I wondered how often I walk through life with my eyes down, analyzing faults on the road, when up above me northern lights dance.
Last year when I went camping with my friends, the photographer in the group decided we should stay up until 2 AM so he could get a group shot of us with the starry sky and the Northern Lights above. I have to admit, that at the time, I was tired and cold and I just wanted sleep. But as we made our way out to the beach, I realized why he wanted this shot. Still some soft light on the horizon in the ridiculously long Northern summer daylight, the clear starry sky and Northern Lights above, it was like a little bit of heaven. I won't soon forget that moment or the wonder it beheld. When I was walking with my head down, eyes on my covers, there were others that reminded me to come outside and look up.
Right before I went outside last night I was reading a book about the road to Emmaus. About how the disciples walked along heartbroken and defeated because the One they thought had come to rescue them appeared to be dead. They doubted everything their lives had been based upon. They shared all this with the stranger who walked beside them. "There they were, walking with the living Christ, and they had no idea who He was. They were looking past His face and into the abyss that demands proof. They saw His sandals, His hair, His eyes, His robe, but they did not see Him." (Mended, Angie Smith).
I am guilty of much the same. Of racing through life, eyes down, and feeling all alone, when right beside me walks my Saviour. And at times, I do walk with my eyes to the heavens, only to trip and fall on a crack in the road. Instead of getting back up, I stop and focus on what caused me to fall, rather than remembering the lights that dance above.
Last week I went to watch the Watoto Children's Choir. Seeing those kids has special meaning to me, because I've been to Uganda several times, but also because I've been to Watoto. Seeing them in their home context as well as seeing them perform abroad gives me perspective. As I was watching them sing, there was one little boy, who had shared his story of struggle before coming to Watoto. As he sang the song, his eyes were closed, hands lifted to the heavens, and in that moment, it was only him and Jesus. I didn't want that moment to end because I knew I was witnessing something sacred and because people like him, they know Who walks beside them.
Last year when I went camping with my friends, the photographer in the group decided we should stay up until 2 AM so he could get a group shot of us with the starry sky and the Northern Lights above. I have to admit, that at the time, I was tired and cold and I just wanted sleep. But as we made our way out to the beach, I realized why he wanted this shot. Still some soft light on the horizon in the ridiculously long Northern summer daylight, the clear starry sky and Northern Lights above, it was like a little bit of heaven. I won't soon forget that moment or the wonder it beheld. When I was walking with my head down, eyes on my covers, there were others that reminded me to come outside and look up.
Right before I went outside last night I was reading a book about the road to Emmaus. About how the disciples walked along heartbroken and defeated because the One they thought had come to rescue them appeared to be dead. They doubted everything their lives had been based upon. They shared all this with the stranger who walked beside them. "There they were, walking with the living Christ, and they had no idea who He was. They were looking past His face and into the abyss that demands proof. They saw His sandals, His hair, His eyes, His robe, but they did not see Him." (Mended, Angie Smith).
I am guilty of much the same. Of racing through life, eyes down, and feeling all alone, when right beside me walks my Saviour. And at times, I do walk with my eyes to the heavens, only to trip and fall on a crack in the road. Instead of getting back up, I stop and focus on what caused me to fall, rather than remembering the lights that dance above.
Last week I went to watch the Watoto Children's Choir. Seeing those kids has special meaning to me, because I've been to Uganda several times, but also because I've been to Watoto. Seeing them in their home context as well as seeing them perform abroad gives me perspective. As I was watching them sing, there was one little boy, who had shared his story of struggle before coming to Watoto. As he sang the song, his eyes were closed, hands lifted to the heavens, and in that moment, it was only him and Jesus. I didn't want that moment to end because I knew I was witnessing something sacred and because people like him, they know Who walks beside them.
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