My son, on his way to school 45 minutes away, sent me this text: “Go look at the sunrise. Right now.” Immediately obeying, I drew back the dining room curtains, stepped onto the deck and looked to the East. A thick layer of gloomy, wet gray clouds hung in the air, closing in the sky. The striking, color-strewn sunrise my son witnessed, was obscured and masked to my eyes. Shrouded by masses of condensation, all the beauty of day-break shone for his eyes but not mine. Happy for my son to behold such glory, but disappointed for myself, I wandered back into the house.
I wish I could see what he saw. I wanted to view the sky the same way he did, from the same vantage point. But I couldn’t. Simply put, we were not in the same spot and his view was different than mine. Was he doing something right and I was doing something wrong? Obviously not. We were both where we needed to be at that moment in time and he enjoyed a beautiful glimpse of transcendent skies and I took in a dreary monochromatic gray. What a picture of life. So often, as Christians, we assume that if we’re trusting and obeying God and seeking Him, each day will be filled with clear-blue skies and radiant sunrises, but it’s simply not true. God’s beauty is just as real and present in the gorgeous sunrise as it is in the bleak drizzle. Experiencing the drizzle doesn’t mean you’re not faith-filled or not exactly where He wants you; it simply means He’s giving you a different view.
I’m thankful my son beheld magnificence this morning and wanted to share it with me– even though I couldn’t see it. That’s what a faith-community is for, right? We share the beauty we see–the faithfulness of God, the love of His Son, the free grace daily given–from whatever our vantage point. By sharing, we give hope and perspective to those whose experience is different.