“The heavens proclaim the glory of God. The skies display his craftsmanship. Day after day they continue to speak; night after night they make him known.” Ps. 19:1-2
Heavenly Father, I’ve needed this week in the North Woods of Wisconsin like a sunrise needs the sun, like Niagara Falls water, like lungs need oxygen. Being in this part of your creation with dear friends has been a kaleidoscope buffet of foliage glory; a mercy-megaphone by the earth, wind, and fireplaces; a sensory smorgasbord of heart, Spirit, and visual delights. Your timing is 10,000 times better than Swiss clocks.
I’ve been living too busy to notice, too distracted to enjoy, too un-still to know that you are not only God—but the God from whom all blessings flow, all beauty emanates, all grace gushes, all peace originates, all hope is given and guaranteed. Hallelujah, and thank you.
Father, thank you for how you declare your glory with whispers and shouts through creation. Thank you for how you reveal yourself through leaves that change and your Word that does not; through the taste of Walleye, French Onion Soup, and Cranberry sourdough bread; through heart-engaging conversations with friends, and through my chilly bumps on this still dark, 42-degree, last-day-of-fishing morning. But especially, Father, thank you for how you focused my gaze on one stunning tree yesterday.
Moses had his burning bush, but you gave me a blazing red Maple tree. It wasn’t so dramatic that I felt the need to take off my Birkenstocks and get on my face. It was more so consoling that I just want to worship and trust you.
Abba, you are everywhere all the time, and you are perpetually committed to exposing more of our need and revealing more of your glorious provision for us in Jesus. There’s nothing more than the Gospel; just more of the Gospel. Whether or not a Muskie gets in our boat today, you’ve filled our hearts with your kindness, presence, and fresh grace. Thank you and So Very Amen.
