Posted: 05 Mar 2012 10:08 AM PST
"The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork" (Psalm 19:1).
Have you looked up today? It's a habit for me, maybe even a spiritual discipline. It helped that I grew up in Iowa surrounded by gorgeous skies, but now, even though I live in the middle of New York City, I never miss checking out the sky several times a day. At times the sky I see is reflected on the window of the building behind my office, or it's the tiny bit of blue I can see out my apartment window if I lean off the end of my sofa, or it's the darkness I search to find the moon or a star when I come up from the subway at night. (Even in Manhattan, I'm blessed to see a few stars on clear nights!)
To me, that heaven above truly tells the glory of God. In fact, if I had to choose an image of God, I'd look to my stack of sky photos—sunsets, white billowing clouds, feather-like wisps against a light blue background, a starburst of sun popping out from behind a cloud, the reflection of white and blue in a still ocean cove...I keep telling myself to stop taking photos of skies, but they keep calling to me. God keeps calling.
During Lent we often focus on fasting and giving things up. However, I believe Psalm 19 is an invitation not to fast, but to feast on God's magnificent handiwork as part of our reflective journey. Whether you're surrounded by wide open skies or have to search for small patches, do you notice the wonder that God has created around you even as you travel the same way to work or school day after day? The sun sets every evening, but have you taken time to notice the subtle differences between each sunset? As you continue to travel through Lent, I encourage you to become more mindful of God's handiwork. And as your eyes sharpen their focus, open your ears, too.
"There is no speech, nor are there words; their voice is not heard; yet their voice goes out through all the earth" (verses 3-4).
What is the sky saying in the silence? That hush can speak volumes if we take time to be still and listen. Perhaps God is communicating with you through the birdsong you can hear if you roll down your window as you sit at a stoplight. Or through the birds I heard singing on Broadway today—not on the theatre stage, but in the tree above me in the middle of Broadway at West 80th Street. God keeps telling of his glory. Are we paying attention?
Dearest Lord, thank you for the gift of your creative displays above and around us, each and every day. Help us notice more often the sometimes dramatic, often subtle ways you reveal your grace and glory. Amen.
Karla Fritsch, publications manager