We were hiking last week through a forest that appeared to be dying. The branches were bare against a sad steel-gray sky that seemed to shroud the world. The trail was scattered with decaying leaves that once adorned these majestic trees. The dirt, rocks and dead leaves created a monotone landscape of the ordinary.
And then suddenly, standing out from the rest, a bright red maple leaf appeared right in the middle of our path like a glimpse of hope and joy. I know people like that. They radiate in the most unusual circumstances, not drawing attention to themselves, but taking every opportunity to bless others.
In this world of griping, complaining and brokenness, these people are like bright leaves strategically placed to give us a little bit of courage. Not just a bright spot trampled in the impending darkness, but a vibrant reminder that all is not lost. It will not always be this way. These woods surrounding each one of us are not dying after all, but preparing deep roots for the festivities of spring.
No matter if there is mud up to our shins, or rocks threatening to bring us down, or grumbling as a dissonant roar around us, we can walk differently into this day, into that difficult relationship, into this season when it gets dark so early. Because God hikes with us on that trail.
In these seemingly uninhabited, barren, dried up places, God transforms our hearts, not to make-do or survive, but to thrive in the reality of His Presence. Not in a sequined, sparkling, phony kind of way, but a deep resounding that is real and true and deep. And can't help but being shared.
...among whom you shine as lights in the world. Philippians 2. 15
1 comment:
How true, Karen. I really value the people who are leaves like that.
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