Light.
It trickles through a leafy canopy, brightens dewy grass in patches, and highlights a single leaf it falls on. We know the plants awake and smile in return. They even reach back to the warmth. They soak it in, translating its life into rich green. Our whole rhythm of days, even our survival, depends on light’s faithfulness. We’re courageous when it’s illuminating. We can’t see and are prone to fear without it. Zoom out, and think metaphors. How essential is the Light for your spirit?
Joy.
Light gives us joy. Solomon said it’s good for the eyes to see the sun (Eccl 11:7). People get sad in places where clouds hide it. Jump on that metaphor! When life’s clouds hang long, we forget about the sun shining above. Actually, we may remember, but the remembering is not enough. We need to see the sun with our eyes and feel it on our skin for it’s effects to impact us. It’s the same for our souls. We cannot live on memories or thrive on only the knowledge that the sun still shines above our shadows. We must have Light, fresh Light, illuminating Light reaching our outer layer of humanity and soaking it’s warmth into our inner being. Sometimes we have to leave our “homes” and take a trip somewhere else where the Light shines cloudless.
Love.
Ah, that warmth. It soaks in so thoroughly and leaves us permeated even afterward. It may be my imagination, but I have a theory that I stay warmer in the winter if I have a tan. Maybe it’s just that I’ve stored up enough warmth in my mind to endure the cold. But I truly think that it’s in my skin. Somehow, if I’ve soaked up a good layer of robust sunshine, that sturdy layer of color actually is warmer insulation. Nothing colder than snowy white skin! Whether my theory is correct or not, it is certainly true that the more love we soak up, the better prepared we are for the harsh wintery seasons of life. I say harsh, but perhaps it’s just harsh outside. I wonder if trees think winter is harsh. Maybe they welcome it as a crisp breeze after a good haircut. Maybe they go inside like me and drink hot tea and read books and stretch under white downy covers… Maybe they grow roots and play underground.
Clouds.
Those naughty sun-hiders. Well…, hm. Musings: They are pretty at sunsets. When it’s hot, they offer relief. When it’s dry, we pray they bring rain. They give us fluff to imagine with. They sail around the globe, helping earth play hide and seek with the sun, moon, and stars. Perhaps they’re friendly after all… as long as they don’t hog the sky. What about clouds in our lives? God used a pillar of cloud to guide His people. Perhaps it hid them; perhaps it gave them shade out there in the vast, dry desert. What about when the hide-and-seekers just park? What about when the heaviness doesn’t feel like protection any more, and we think suspended moisture is drowning us? I don’t know. I say take a vacation! Or maybe read a travel book on the tropics. Or talk to someone you know who lives somewhere sunny and hope you catch some of their joy. All metaphors, of course.
Smile.
What I do know is that after a long season of clouds and their accompanying drip, when the sun does come out, it’s GLORIOUS!!! I’ve lived in the Pacific NW. The wet winters and springs give birth to heavy lushness – mounds of tall grass and green in a million forms bursting to life. I think of Ps. 30:5 – “Weeping may endure for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning!” The nights may be LONG, perhaps even strung together by heavy cloud cover. But when the sun breaks, it truly does seem to be shouting, “LOOK! I’m here! I’ve waited ‘til all was washed and softened. I’ve been keeping time and circling to smile over the whole earth. And now I will warm and awaken the seeds here that have fallen and waited. I will unfold the blooms. I’m lighting the dance hall. And I’m making all things new!”
“‘Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come along. For behold, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers have already appeared in the land; the time has arrived for pruning the vines, and the voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land. The fig tree has ripened its figs, and the vines in blossom have given forth their fragrance. Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come along!’” Song of Solomon 2:10-13 (NASB).