How on Earth

Thursday, January 08, 2015


How, as I gaze across the hills
Soaked in the evening sun which spills
Its soft farewell upon them,

And up into the sky of blues,
A masterstroke of blended hues,
That calms a weary heart;

How, in the shade of skyward trees’
Majestic trunks and soaring leaves—
Such glory from a seed!—

And in the smell of garden dirt,
In which an earthworm finds its work
Alongside human hands;

How, when the very air we breathe,
When moved at different frequencies,
Lays music on the wind,

And water, which sustains our life,
Rains down on us, then catches light
To dazzle us with color;

How, when the ocean’s pounding waves
And crushing depths and hidden caves
Play host to worlds of life,

And mountains rising high above
Are grandiose reminders of
How small we stand beside;

How, from the even greater heights
Of stars and galaxies, the lights
That we will never reach,

Down to the parts invisible,
Too small to see but critical
To holding life together;

How, as our lone expiring star
Gives light and heat that from afar
Come near to give us life,

Yet in a telling irony,
To look into the sun would be
An eyeball’s eulogy;

How, in the face of all of this,
Could man or woman truly miss
The hand behind it all?

An accident could not convey
The beauty that is on display;
No, Someone had to make it:

A masterpiece to be enjoyed,
But more than that, it had a point:
To lead us to our Maker.

And sure enough, we know His name;
He drew Himself into the frame:
A man whose name was Jesus.

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