Sometimes I’m utterly astonished at how beautiful the world is. Right now, I’m enjoying the evening symphony of robins and mockingbirds reciting their litanies.
Outside, I glimpse muscadine vines decked out in dapper greenery, while the setting sun paints golden stripes on the neighbor’s house.
A thump at the front window announces a robin landing on the feeder, searching for supper. A goldfinch tries to elbow its way into the trough, but the bigger bird triumphs.
When I walk through the Chelsea Heights neighborhood, I see honey bees sampling nectar—and roses turning their faces to the sun.
I called a cousin the other morning, who glumly said he was catching up on “what’s wrong with the world.”
Then I received a letter from a retired friend, who mentioned feeling depressed about the terrible things on the news.
It's true, of course—unspeakable events happen every second of every day. Families being killed in the Middle East simply for the "crime" of being Christians. Diseases like cancer and dementia ravaging families.
Suffering can make the world seem like a hellish placeand tempt us to despair.
After all, sin is woven into the fabric of human existence, according to Christian theology. It all began in the Garden of Eden, when our first parents decided paradise—free of suffering and death—wasn’t enough for them.
And so, in our fallen world, we have thorns on roses, distressing diseases and emotional pain—and sometimes it’s hard to muster up joy.
Still, shortly before the crucifixion, Jesus didn’t talk about depression, sorrow or pain—but told his friends, “Your joy no one shall take from you.”
OTHER NEWS:
When I awaken in the morning and don my slippers, I hear a plaintive meow coming from the hall—signaling the first moment of delight.
Then I open the bedroom door and step outside—and my cat reacts like he’s witnessing Lazarus exiting the tomb. Purring, he throws himself on his back and waves his paws in the air.
We have this ecstatic reunion every morning—and it never gets old. Next, I open the front door, so my cat can watch the chipmunks convening to panhandle on the porch.
At night, I hear owls serenading from the creek and behold a Communion-wafer moon.
In "Glimpses of Grace," Madeleine L'Engle described God as a heavenly artist, whose canvas is the world.
“He works with the beauty of matter…so that we, in turn, may hear the grass growing; see a face springing to life in love and laughter; feel another human hand or the velvet of a puppy’s ear; taste food prepared and offered in love; smell food, flowers, books, new-mown grass.”
Jesus came into the world to give us abundant life—which includes glimpses of heavenly glory on earth.
He eased the pain of people who were suffering—and so should we. He taught us to welcome strangers, feed the hungry and visit prisoners.
But he also celebrated at wedding feasts, enjoyed fishing and delighted in children. He found lessons in sparrows, fig trees and mustard seeds.
If we keep ourselves attuned to the beauties of creation, we’ll uncover the secret of joy. We’ll discover that God’s world—despite thorns and tears—can still be a wondrous place.
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Lorraine’s latest book is “Death Dons a Mask,” a humorous mystery set at a small Decatur church. Her email is lorrainevmurray@yahoo.com
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