![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQ1Vy3axBjZe9ygDPXLpbScGa4NAwPgtqBzBMRp6-SuhGc_svpIA7NdUETu1fGHezBuHRYapYdDobsEvN5knoI1Msguesx0Iv-bPPTjXH55w6d_klOYYhQbJyUyPxfFE7MYbdv7ybwZg/s640/2016-365-48fb.jpg)
We always walk home on Wednesday nights after church. I guess it's an unintentional tradition. Goodness, we've even walked home in the rain. The mossy oaks and feathered palms take on a much different appearance in the darkness than they do in the light. At times they are beautiful. At times they are terrifying. I think it has much to do with the frame of mind of the viewer. As is true with most good art, the beholder will see a truth about himself reflected in the medium. Tonight I saw darkness. The smears of Spanish moss seemed to be tear-stains, but the light that shined behind the cobwebs of concern was oh-so bright. Even when the path ahead stretches out dark and foreboding, we know that there is a perfect light that casts out all fear and doubt! "...I walked through darkness by his light." Job 29:3.
No comments:
Post a Comment