Rays bounce to the north, south, east, and west, painting a cross of light over a pitch dark sky. Supermoon circles large in the center of a bright, shining, old, rugged cross.
I sit on the corner of her bed, watch my sleeping beauty breathe, and I stare at the moon.
“God writes the Gospel not in the Bible alone, but also on trees, and in the flowers and clouds and stars.” –Martin Luther
Tonight, God wrote the gospel on the moon, and I needed it more than I knew.
Many days, I gulp down living water early.
But then I run through days, where the gospel feels lost on me.
Some days start on a high note, but tangle up in chaos before we reach the middle. Some days, I have to convince myself to try get on top of it all. Instead, I feel irritated. I can’t stop moving, but I’m only running in circles.
When I finally sit down for a few minutes without little people asking for more pieces of me, I ask God really mature and selfless questions.
Why won’t they ever leave me alone?
It’s not what I really want, other than the opportunity to pause and re-center.
The night of the supermoon, it hit me.
The way of the moon is to wax and wane, and the light can all but disappear sometimes.
My light can all but disappear, in the jumble of kids and school and endless meals and the house with its dirt and projects and always so many things to do.
My light disappears in the way I react to their childishness and stubbornness and rips and smudges and everywhere messes.
I want to remain in Jesus, to be a light that shines His love day in and day out, even when it’s only for my little crew.
I also want to be left alone sometimes.
I want to stay on schedule.
I want my house all put together.
I want to complete things when I start them.
And since none of these are entirely possible, some days my light goes out. Or at least grows dim.
How is it so hard to remain in Him, when I do take the time to begin in Him?
The night I saw Him cross the moon, my heart welled up with this visible shot of gospel, in the middle of my own frustrations and failures.
His cross was brighter.
His love was stronger.
His work outlasted my own.
Once my eyes were fixed on Jesus again, I could see it all more clearly.
There is so much beauty in and around and through the chaos of our days.
God writes the gospel not in the Bible alone. This doesn’t diminish the importance of the Bible. Nothing compares to opening the pages of His Word and hearing from the Lord.
But God surrounded us with all this beauty, His own glory. It fixes our minds on Him again, and maybe there’s always more to see.
So when you look up at the sky today or the stars tonight, or when the wind blows through your backyard trees, I hope you will remember.
I hope you will look and see Jesus above the roar of your life’s chaos, and you will continue in Him. And you will remain in Him.
Read this post also at PurposefulFaith.com.