from Megan Pinckard
When I was little, I thought the sun was the window to eternity. I imagined souls flying through to heaven when their time came. “Don’t stare at the sun,” people would say, and somehow I took this to mean that I’d be staring directly at God and all his glory, which we humans cannot do.
I stared at the sun bravely, defiantly.
“The voice of the Lord makes the deer give birth and strips the forests bare, and in his temple all cry, ‘Glory!’”
I used to believe that God’s glory was greatness only, something to beheld: his power, might, and majesty. The longer I’ve known him and been known by him, though, I’ve discovered that the weight of glory, too, is that he holds us. This great and good glory at times insists that we bow our eyes, but so too that he looks on us with individual, infinite care.
While this quiet season encourages bowed heads, I’m reminded that help still comes, it always comes, from the Lord. And I will look up.
Megan Pinckard has a job so she can buy and write more books. She’s currently working on her third novel.