Psalm 19:1-3—The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge. There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard.
The rain pours in Oregon tonight—steady and persistent. It is a most fascinating messenger of nature. Rain promises green vegetation and air that is clean to the taste. It gives the sun true reason to sparkle. It vanquishes the parch of drought. Conversely, rain is the mother of rust, the father of mold and the saturnine priest of depression. Its airborne invasion conquers tabescent mountains as earth gives way to water. Houses lose their foundation, trees buckle under the roar of new mudslides. Floods wipe away the very dreams of those once nourished by peaceful rivers.
Who is God? Is He the bubbling Spring of new life--the sweet mountain flow of Living Water? Is He the Brook who washes sins over rocks of repentance? Does He moisten chapped lips with the soothing balm of His liquid grace? Or is He the One whose powerful undertow flows around piers of self-reliance? Does His righteous steam rise off brittle consciences? Do His waves threaten pleasure palaces so carefully constructed? Is He the Sea of healing for those who pant for His water or the Lake of fire to those who disdain His mercy? The heavens give the answer--every day, in every language. Listen. You will know.
Inspiration
If we learn to associate ideas that are worthy of God with all that happens in nature, our imaginations will never be at the mercy of our impulses . . . The character of a person is nothing more than the habitual form of his or her associations.—Oswald Chambers in The Moral Foundations of Life
