The moon was streaming in like a bright light through the bay window by our dining room table as I rose this morning. Many times, inspired by sunrises and sunsets, I have tried with my camera to capture them. But this morning, who knows why, it just didn't work, flash or no flash.
I was reminded of something my brother once said to me after trying in a slide show to capture the glory of the Grand Canyon. The show was pitiful but my brother was gracious and his comment memorable. "Jim," he said, smiling, "there are some things you just have to hold in your heart."
Nice as records are of the things that inspire us in life--even photographic records--they are never more than approximations of the things they are meant to capture. Why is it, then, that moved so often by God's glory we spend more time trying to capture it than just waiting before it, allowing the glory to capture us?
As in nature, so in music, that glory comes often to invade my being. Life is full of sacred reminders, meant to be absorbed, like the symmetry of text and music in an marvelous anthem by Richard Farrant, performed last Sunday afternoon by The National Lutheran Choir in a nearby Lutheran Church. with the moon shining through huge walled windows on either side of the sanctuary.
Lord, for thy tender mercy's sake, lay not our sin to our charge, but forgive that is past, and give us grace to amend our sinful lives. To decline from sin, and incline to virtue, that we may walk with a perfect heart before thee now and ever more. Amen.
I can no more capture for you with words the glory that streamed in on me in those moments than I could the Grand Canyon for my brother with that pitiful slide show. But it remains a living thing in my heart, and like the moon streaming through my window this morning that so refreshed my soul it continues to express my longing.
Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and .forget not all his benefits (Psalm 103:1).