Glimpses

You know those sights that you never want to forget.

trains are always gonna mean so much to me from now on.

The Lord gives me glimpses of Himself. 

Of this I'm so very convinced. 

I don't say this out of pride, to illustrate that I see that which you can't or haven't ever. 

No. 

He gives the glimpses to all but most times our eyes are lazy. Settled, okay with and satisfied by ugliness and the fruit of bad theology.

 I had never really pressed into the idea of art vs beauty up until a couple days ago. I always thought of them as twins. Inseparable. Because when I think of art there is usually a connotation of beauty with that thought. But if you really think about it, there's art that's ugly. Art that disturbs. She was saying, the lady I was having a conversation with, that all art really is, is an outward expression of our perceptions of reality. That's broad.

Beauty, is narrower, It's truest source in one thing;

God.

And He shows me Himself in all the things that I find beautiful.

Tastes. Taste testers. On my tongue, in my ears. 

Embraces from mothers and lyrics.

Laughs with brothers and sisters. 

Sights. 

He let me see that which I saw last evening

Through my eyes

I wish you could have seen it.

 I wish you could have stood with me where I stood, with the message I had heard in my mind. 

You know those sights that you never want to forget? Easily, maybe the most beautiful thing you ever saw? I stood there and,

"Train. Train. Train."

I kept reciting to myself. 

I stood there in the plaza of my school campus, the Friday of the week that begun with me sitting in church on Sunday. I was listening to the sermon that was well needed. The pastor preached on Christ being the radiance of God, he also preached about the need for us to pay attention to God and his glory, the beauty He exudes. Somehow it led up to him talking about trains,

'Imagine you live by a train station and you invite a friend over for the first time. They have no idea what to expect and are completely shocked and terrified, almost in awe by the train when it passes by. You, on the other hand, are so over and accustomed to it that when she asks you, you say, "What do you mean what was that? It's just a train.'

What the pastor was really getting at was the fact that we have allowed ourselves to get used to God, no longer blown away or in awe, only comfortable and full of contempt. Like a man who lives by the train station used to the train.

Daring to approach Him as if He were a dull painting, a dark somber movie, a melancholic song. 

and he might feel like that at times-

But He is most beautiful, making only beautiful things and making only all things beautiful. Shining. Radiant.

Like the sky that Friday in the plaza.

 It was nearing dusk and so the sun was winding down and it showed. Shades of orange across the sky (yes, this is not an anomaly) except, the atmosphere was eerie yet bright and I wish I could explain better but basically, the sky had a mind of its own this time round. The way in which the oranges spread out, even while letting yellow and light light gray be present literally took my breath away. And as if that was not enough, it started to rain. Drizzle actually. 

The three to five minutes of my friends and I in the plaza, dropping our conversation and our jaws to watch God show off were also blessed with a train that passed right where we were looking. It's silver body and dark windows then reflecting orange yellow, it's speed, fast and quick behind the slow drizzles.

"Train. Train. Train."

I kept reciting to myself. 

And I went up to my room and spent the rest of the weekend thinking, "How dare I get used to God? how dare I get used to 'the train.'"

"God shows us his beauty, through and above that which He created."- Elli Patterson

(God is beautiful in and of Himself, something we see through His nature, and the nature of the beautiful things we see.) 

Stay tuned for part ii. :)