How satisfying it is to live in such a rich world, so full of things to delight in every moment, and to know from Whom these blessings came.
“If there were no God we would be in this glorious world with grateful hearts and no one to thank.” --Christina Rossetti
This world is not my home, but the “home away from home” God gave me has so much in it to savor and appreciate. Five senses to take it all in (why not only one?). A mind to contemplate it. A heart to respond.
What is the point of all the variety in the world? Why do birds each have their own song? Why are snowflakes unique? Why are there so many kinds of fruit, each with its own color, taste, and smell? Why not stick to manna from heaven?
I can only conclude that He created such variety for our pleasure. And if it is for our pleasure, then He is glorified by our taking pleasure in it.
Knowing that all these things have been given as gifts from a loving God makes them infinitely more meaningful. I doubt I would find such satisfaction in simple things like the sound of crunching leaves, or the way clouds move across the sky, if I believed that everything happened by chance. It would all be so ordinary – so meaningless. Like finding a scrap of paper with a scribble on it on the ground in a parking lot, instead of getting that same scrap of paper from my little cousin who “drew the dog just for me.” The same object, but one gets tossed in the trash without a second thought, and the other fills me up with warm fuzzies.
There was a time not long ago when I felt almost overwhelmed by the beauty and awesomeness and pure-and-simple enjoyable-ness of all the little “good things” in my life; from the way the mist enshrouds the mountain outside my window on a foggy morning to the perfectly melodious song of a meadowlark on the lawn; from the softness of the bed I lie down in every night to the sweet, refreshing taste of just-squeezed orange juice. My words of gratefulness and appreciation always seemed so inadequate – so catastrophically out of proportion with the gifts being showered down upon me.
I'm not in that place anymore. All the richness is still here, but I'm distracted. By circumstances, by heartache, by anger, by a million and one things, most of which have no business cluttering my mind. I think... I hope... yes, I am certain, that in time I will begin to find joy in the “little things” again. Pain has a way of making happiness sweeter, when it comes.
And it is coming, though sometimes the process seems agonizingly slow. I tasted a little bit of it today. Perhaps part of the refining nature of trials lies in teaching us to taste that joy even in the midst of the fire. I'm certainly not there yet. But if it takes a hundred more such trials to teach me, I'm willing to walk that path.
“If there were no God we would be in this glorious world with grateful hearts and no one to thank.” --Christina Rossetti
This world is not my home, but the “home away from home” God gave me has so much in it to savor and appreciate. Five senses to take it all in (why not only one?). A mind to contemplate it. A heart to respond.
What is the point of all the variety in the world? Why do birds each have their own song? Why are snowflakes unique? Why are there so many kinds of fruit, each with its own color, taste, and smell? Why not stick to manna from heaven?
I can only conclude that He created such variety for our pleasure. And if it is for our pleasure, then He is glorified by our taking pleasure in it.
Knowing that all these things have been given as gifts from a loving God makes them infinitely more meaningful. I doubt I would find such satisfaction in simple things like the sound of crunching leaves, or the way clouds move across the sky, if I believed that everything happened by chance. It would all be so ordinary – so meaningless. Like finding a scrap of paper with a scribble on it on the ground in a parking lot, instead of getting that same scrap of paper from my little cousin who “drew the dog just for me.” The same object, but one gets tossed in the trash without a second thought, and the other fills me up with warm fuzzies.
There was a time not long ago when I felt almost overwhelmed by the beauty and awesomeness and pure-and-simple enjoyable-ness of all the little “good things” in my life; from the way the mist enshrouds the mountain outside my window on a foggy morning to the perfectly melodious song of a meadowlark on the lawn; from the softness of the bed I lie down in every night to the sweet, refreshing taste of just-squeezed orange juice. My words of gratefulness and appreciation always seemed so inadequate – so catastrophically out of proportion with the gifts being showered down upon me.
I'm not in that place anymore. All the richness is still here, but I'm distracted. By circumstances, by heartache, by anger, by a million and one things, most of which have no business cluttering my mind. I think... I hope... yes, I am certain, that in time I will begin to find joy in the “little things” again. Pain has a way of making happiness sweeter, when it comes.
And it is coming, though sometimes the process seems agonizingly slow. I tasted a little bit of it today. Perhaps part of the refining nature of trials lies in teaching us to taste that joy even in the midst of the fire. I'm certainly not there yet. But if it takes a hundred more such trials to teach me, I'm willing to walk that path.
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