To see a thing which mars the landscape and NOT leap to faulting, "Who would DO such a thing?!" To see a thing which mars the landscape but NOT pick it up "to be a good citizen," so people can applaud and approve. Rather, to see a thing which mars the landscape and pick it up in order ... to reveal the beauty underneath. ...to right it to its former way ...to adjust it to its rightful place ...to deliver it to its intended recipient ...to mend it back to wholeness ...to blot what has been spilled and restore what has been lost. A small act of restoration... so the one who passes next will come upon it, unhindered, and may feel the moment without disruption. To the Glory of the one who made it.
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
What right have I to be here on this earth?
taking up space,
What right have I to demand that things be done my way?
according to my plan,
within my specifications,
according to my schedule.
I have no right to these. Not any claim on these.
Any more than you or you or you or you.
Nevertheless, I am here.
I’m meant for something.
Meant to be someone.
Maybe I’m just meant.
What if, when God spoke me into existence, the one who I am today is exactly what He meant, exactly what He had in mind, and exactly as He hoped?
Wouldn’t that be something?!