Every so often, usually when I’m in the middle of making supper at the close of a sunny winter day, my eye is drawn out the window to a sudden illumination in the east.
There’s a row of trees across the lake that will be suddenly be bathed in something akin to an alpenglow. It’s not a particularly notable stand of trees at any other time of the day, but for these few brief moments in the evening, it is magnificent.
And sometimes, if the supper is in no danger of burning, I’ll run out to where the view is best and stand there for a few minutes to drink it in—and then I’ll turn around.
Because those trees glowing rose and orange and gold along the frozen lake shore are, after all, only reflecting a greater glory, that of the sun itself setting in the west.
It’s a picture of who I am, who any of us are, if we are in Christ.
Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing special—until His glory shines onto our hearts, glowing on our changed countenances, creating a magnificent reflection of Himself on our lives.
And, hopefully, it’s a transformation glorious enough to compel those who see to turn around and look at the Source of the glory Himself, Jesus, the Light of the world.
“And we all…beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another…” (2 Corinthians 3:10)
Rejoicing Hills 