It’s one of those frosty mornings. A light blanket of snow has covered over everything almost like a fairy dusting. The sun burns large and warm through the atmosphere, touching the stairs, certain squares of the walls, the refrigerator with this honey colored light.
I’m waiting for the kettle to boil so I can make that magical morning drug.
Click. There it goes.
Opening the blinds this morning felt like a choice for the whole day: We must choose to let the light in.
If you’ve been living in a string of cloudy days—in the weariness and frustration that breed jadedness—then sometimes when the day comes with a day-light so piercing that the sunbeams are visible in their breaking through, then sometimes it almost seems easier to keep going with the blinds shut. We know the light will reveal not only our own pain, but also our sinful coping with the pain. As much as all of us long to be seen, we are also constantly fighting the temptation to hide. So we might sit in the dark awhile longer. Pull the covers over our heads and pretend that if we can’t be seen then we no longer exist.
Or we can choose to let the light in. In to all those weary and wounded places. Let the Son bring his healing revelation; his holy rays. And fill the shabbiest scenes of our inner hearts with his glorious light. Be seen as you are. Be loved as you are. Be humbled as you watch the way the light brings beauty to even the most mundane of places.
The corners of my heart are like the corners of my house. Some are dusty and cob webbed. Some cleaned haphazardly. Some cozy and comfortable. Some pristine for show. I’m in here somewhere…Visible to the One with the healing light. Even when I feel invisible and like I may as well give up this wild hope of being seen and understood and yet loved as I am—the truth is I am always seen. Even the darkness is day to him.
So the light is for my benefit; that I may know that I am seen. Being seen and knowing it can make all the difference.