color and light
today is rainy and the sky is gray. it's one of those days where you have to keep the joy of your salvation at the front of your brain in order to keep from feeling like the sky. i often feel like the sky...although in the case of a blue sky, i don't feel blue, but rather happy...pink or yellow, i guess, if you were to put a color to it. actually, yellow doesn't make me happy. what makes me happy about yellow is the effect it has on all the other colors. the sun shines yellow upon every earthly thing. the world smiles and basks in its yellow touch, and then the grass looks ever greener for it. that is, the sun, though its cast is yellow, makes every other color shine more confidently in their own beautiful shade.
well, i do like yellow in roses and lemons, but i can't wear it. my husband likes yellow, especially in '68 ford mustangs. red also makes me happy, as if it was wine to gladden the heart.
i had a chat (somewhat related to color) with our landlady one day about light and dark, and since then I have been thinking of it a great deal. i am, like many women, one who is greatly affected by darkness. the effect is not manifested in any way like Jekyl and Hyde, but it is real and it is spiritual. when joe and i moved here from idaho, we left an apartment that was half underground and had a total of three windows. moscow also had lots of winter months, and as i found out, way too many for me. i did not realize what an affect that darkness had on my soul until we moved here. the fact that i'm getting a lot more vitamin D may be a part of it, but my soul almost flies out of my chest every single morning when i wake and see the sun shining through our windows. if i am in the kitchen or the living room or the bathroom, where the light is constant and the ground looking out the window is where it should be and not at eye level, then i am lifted in spirit. if am in our bedroom, however, where the window doesn't face any light at all and only grants a reminder of how far under ground we are in that part of the house, then i feel heavy. i don't want to go in there. i gravitate toward the light.
my conversation with our landlady was about the fact that darkness bothers us (and conversely, that light rejuvinates us) because of who we are in Christ. God tells us that we have been transferred from the dominion of darkness into His marvelous light. He tells us that He is light, that Satan only disguises himself as an angel of light, but we really know him to be darkness itself. darkness is a dominion. for me, night time is the worst time to think because it breeds doubt and fear. thankfully though, night is as day to our God, and the darkness cannot overcome Him. i am safe in the light of Christ. and i have been given a holy disgust for darkness. it is not my friend. i do not dwell there. my mind is being renewed in Christ and i love the light. does this, then, have anything to do with the way i feel, or should feel, when it's a gray and rainy day? or the way i feel when my house doesn't have enough windows?
now, i know that every person has their own taste. but here's something that really bothers me about where we live. it amazes me that folks can live in these redwoods. personally, joe and i live among the redwoods, but not in them and there's a big difference...the sun has plenty of room to make its way through our house and touch our skin. but you take a drive down highway 9 and see hundreds of homes tucked way back under the boughs of ancient trees, and these homes are dark and rotting and green with mold. they have been sitting there for a hundred years, some of them, and they never see the light of the sun nor feel one life-giving ray. and that, to me, is death. but very often, the folks who come out of those homes look about as alive as their living quarters. it scares me that there are people living in these places, and either they like it or they just don't realize what a nasty whole it is...and maybe both. their clothes are even the same colors - earthy green, brown, black. i guess it's just the santa cruz mountains for you. but, i see something here that i cannot ignore. it reminds me of sin.
"and their foolish hearts were darkened." those whom Christ has not claimed for Himself are left in darkness and the sadness of it is that because of sin, they like it. they are drawn to dark deeds and dark lives, just as we who contrastly have been renewed in Christ are drawn by Him to holiness. and thus, since our theology comes out our fingertips, it seems that our homes will reflect our hearts whether we realize it or not. it also tells me that physical darkness to some degree will disturb those whose lives have been set free from the domain of spiritual darkness. though surely not every Christian will be affected by darkness the way i tend to be, i think there is a connection between light and dark, and our souls. and, i don't think it's an accident that God created us to do most of our living during the hours of light, out in the light, and to sleep when its dark.
so, today is rainy and gray. that is true, and it doesn't feel good. but, is the gray sky troublesome? should it cause my mood to slouch or my soul to whither? i think not. though it may threaten, it does not own me, for Christ has me, and the gray of the sky is no final commentary on the state of my soul. it is well with my soul. thank you, Lord, that you condescend to make our darkness, light; our night, day; our blindness, sight. we sing this to You in great thankfulness, and we know You will keep us even if we walk through the valley of the shadow of death:
well, i do like yellow in roses and lemons, but i can't wear it. my husband likes yellow, especially in '68 ford mustangs. red also makes me happy, as if it was wine to gladden the heart.
i had a chat (somewhat related to color) with our landlady one day about light and dark, and since then I have been thinking of it a great deal. i am, like many women, one who is greatly affected by darkness. the effect is not manifested in any way like Jekyl and Hyde, but it is real and it is spiritual. when joe and i moved here from idaho, we left an apartment that was half underground and had a total of three windows. moscow also had lots of winter months, and as i found out, way too many for me. i did not realize what an affect that darkness had on my soul until we moved here. the fact that i'm getting a lot more vitamin D may be a part of it, but my soul almost flies out of my chest every single morning when i wake and see the sun shining through our windows. if i am in the kitchen or the living room or the bathroom, where the light is constant and the ground looking out the window is where it should be and not at eye level, then i am lifted in spirit. if am in our bedroom, however, where the window doesn't face any light at all and only grants a reminder of how far under ground we are in that part of the house, then i feel heavy. i don't want to go in there. i gravitate toward the light.
my conversation with our landlady was about the fact that darkness bothers us (and conversely, that light rejuvinates us) because of who we are in Christ. God tells us that we have been transferred from the dominion of darkness into His marvelous light. He tells us that He is light, that Satan only disguises himself as an angel of light, but we really know him to be darkness itself. darkness is a dominion. for me, night time is the worst time to think because it breeds doubt and fear. thankfully though, night is as day to our God, and the darkness cannot overcome Him. i am safe in the light of Christ. and i have been given a holy disgust for darkness. it is not my friend. i do not dwell there. my mind is being renewed in Christ and i love the light. does this, then, have anything to do with the way i feel, or should feel, when it's a gray and rainy day? or the way i feel when my house doesn't have enough windows?
now, i know that every person has their own taste. but here's something that really bothers me about where we live. it amazes me that folks can live in these redwoods. personally, joe and i live among the redwoods, but not in them and there's a big difference...the sun has plenty of room to make its way through our house and touch our skin. but you take a drive down highway 9 and see hundreds of homes tucked way back under the boughs of ancient trees, and these homes are dark and rotting and green with mold. they have been sitting there for a hundred years, some of them, and they never see the light of the sun nor feel one life-giving ray. and that, to me, is death. but very often, the folks who come out of those homes look about as alive as their living quarters. it scares me that there are people living in these places, and either they like it or they just don't realize what a nasty whole it is...and maybe both. their clothes are even the same colors - earthy green, brown, black. i guess it's just the santa cruz mountains for you. but, i see something here that i cannot ignore. it reminds me of sin.
"and their foolish hearts were darkened." those whom Christ has not claimed for Himself are left in darkness and the sadness of it is that because of sin, they like it. they are drawn to dark deeds and dark lives, just as we who contrastly have been renewed in Christ are drawn by Him to holiness. and thus, since our theology comes out our fingertips, it seems that our homes will reflect our hearts whether we realize it or not. it also tells me that physical darkness to some degree will disturb those whose lives have been set free from the domain of spiritual darkness. though surely not every Christian will be affected by darkness the way i tend to be, i think there is a connection between light and dark, and our souls. and, i don't think it's an accident that God created us to do most of our living during the hours of light, out in the light, and to sleep when its dark.
so, today is rainy and gray. that is true, and it doesn't feel good. but, is the gray sky troublesome? should it cause my mood to slouch or my soul to whither? i think not. though it may threaten, it does not own me, for Christ has me, and the gray of the sky is no final commentary on the state of my soul. it is well with my soul. thank you, Lord, that you condescend to make our darkness, light; our night, day; our blindness, sight. we sing this to You in great thankfulness, and we know You will keep us even if we walk through the valley of the shadow of death:
"now, rest beneath night's shadow;
the woodland and the meadow,
the world in slumber lies,
but, thou my heart awake thee,
to prayer and song betake thee,
in praise to God arise.
The radiant sun hath vanished,
His golden rays are banished
by night, the foe of day;
but Christ the Sun of gladness,
dispeling all my sadness,
within my heart holds sway.
Lord Jesus who dost love me,
O, spread Thy wings above me
and shield me from alarm;
though darkness would assail me
Thy mercy will not fail me.
I rest in Thy strong arm."
a lullaby from The Cantus Christi
Paul Gerhardt, 1648
posted by joe at
1:38 PM
1 Comments:
Beautiful post, my Jens.
I completely agree - sunlight is so wholesome for the body and the soul.
Although, living in Texas has been an adjustment - its almost like a daily overdose of vitamin D. Oddly, I miss the shade of the CA redwood trees, and the chillish winters of Moscow. There never seems to be a 'perfect', does there?
Enjoy the rain for me & I will savor this sun for you. Tomorrow, we can flip flop ;) In the meantime, praise God that He called us out of the darkness to be 'children of light' :)
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