The next time you look at the sunset will never be the same…
I look out on the horizon and see so much of a life that brings no value, but much pain. I see abusive parents, suicidal teens, broken relationships, violent civilians, and a generation that is longing for a revival. I see a generation waiting to take it’s place, but that same generation is tearing itself apart every day. The horizon paints the picture wonderfully. Have you ever seen a sunset? So majestic, so glorious it is!! However, the red sun in the sky symbolizes the blood that has been and will be shed. The horizon paints the picture, but are we seeing it?
Now I look to the sky, I look at the night sky. The stars speckled across the darkened sky like glitter across a canvas. Majestic, glorious, I’m outnumbered…50 billion to one. I am a mere speck in this life; I will live, I will die, but I will live with purpose and die with peace. The horizon does not scare me anymore because I know that when my sun sets, I have lived an amazing day. A day filled with an exuberant amount of trials, joys, love, and hate. I look vertically and peace comes over me just as the waves wash the sand on the shoreline of the Atlantic. My soul rests, I feel nothing but contentment. I do not want, I do not need, I just am. The more I look, the more engulfed I am. The sky swallows me and those 50 million stars no longer outnumber me; rather, they talk to me. They show me the way. I’m engulfed now, completely. The poor decisions of my past are washed away. All the pain and hurt this life has brought are cleansed. No trials, no pain. Pure contentment. The more I look into that dark night sky, the more I realized it was painted for me. No one else. Each star laid across the black canvas tells a story in my life, and I drown myself in that book. The author is not myself, I cannot create something that beautiful. No, the author is much more than me. The author is love, compassion, and grace. The author knows, better yet, the author cares…and that author isn’t done yet.
It is the author that write the book, and reading is not seeing. We must understand the text before we can see the horizon. Look past the comfort, and learn to love the pain. Each new trouble is a new chapter on our canvas. Are you willing to let the author write?
Chris Kordick
