The Testimony of Our Senses
You created and it was good. Very good. You said so yourself.
So how come right now it can feel bad? Very bad. You didn’t warn us about this. Have you changed your mind? Are you going back on your word? Were you just kidding?
I look of the hint of the sunrise, the glow of the clouds, overseeing two ducks urging themselves toward the shore and the cover of the steady reeds. The water is still, so still I can see the arrow of their wake. Good, so very good.
The darkened surface speaks to the heavens. See your clouds, your tints, and the proud shadows of overflying waterfowl? See your beauty in me? it seems to say. Even the jet trail of the early morning flight is reflected here.
I look up to see the straight white line of the jet trail dissecting the grey-blue of the sky, but where is it drawn on my pond palette? on my earthly representation of heavenly perfection?
Wait. I think I see it. It’s not a straight line at all, but an oscillating serpent in white, wiggling along the surface. I can see it clearly, reflected on the stilled water of the early morning, waiting patiently to come to life. The sheet of pond is not a perfect reflection after all. Unseen perturbations give themselves away.
How could I doubt your perfection? What you have created is good, very good.
Now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. ~ 1 Cor 13:12