This blog is mostly about images. A photo captures a moment in time and lets us slow down long enough to see the rich texture of the life all around us. It's mostly for my own amusement, but if you stumbled here somehow, please enjoy.
San-tor-EEE-nee. A gem of an island in the Aegean Sea. Its crescent shape marked by stunning west coast cliffs plummeting into the caldera of a long dormant volcano, and dotted with dozens and dozens of these white-washed, blue-domed churches. Absolutely stunning.
This particular shot is in the northernmost town of Oia (EEE-uh).
"So the children went in and possessed the land...and
they took strong cities, and a fat land, and possessed houses full of
all goods, wells digged, vineyards, and oliveyards, and fruit trees in
abundance: so they did eat, and were filled, and became fat, and
delighted themselves in thy great goodness." (Neh. 9:24-25)
Sound familiar? We are blessed. Happy Thanksgiving! And watch out for v. 26.
God bless each of you. Among my many blessings are those of you who take the time to drop by and read these musings...or just look at the pix...that's OK too! :)
We identify visitors to the city by their upward glances in admiration of the skyscrapers. (Though I could be mistakenly identified that way too as I've never lost my sense of wonder for such things--including pointing a camera in all directions.)
I guess it's no surprise the disciples pointed out the magnificent temple during their Jerusalem visit in Matthew 24. It likely did surprise them when the Master prophesied of the day when "There shall not be left here one stone upon another, that shall not be thrown down". How permanent those stones must have seemed to them then. I believe it was around 70 A.D. when the Roman Titus was responsible for fulfiling that very prophecy, as chronicled in the arch that bears his name in Rome.
Nothing on earth today is any more permanent. Nothing.
From this rocky outcropping, the Apostle Paul--having beheld the city (Athens) "wholly given to idolatry"--made his appeal that the "unknown God" they unwittingly served was Him in whom we live and move and have our being.
From our vantage point, removed by much time and great distance, we can tend to relegate idolatry to what we know of the remnants of Greek mythology; quaint and fairly harmless at this point. Yet in its roots lie the very human tendency to worship the past, raise to doctrine the dogmas of men, and constrain God to something we can hold in our hands, understand, and control.
The Ten Commandments weren't issued with an expiration date nor the suggestion that any of them might not be highly relevant at some future time. So how does "Thou shalt have no other gods before me" and "Thou shalt not make any graven image" apply today? And how might we be just as blind as those Paul derided on Mars' Hill?
I hesitated in posting this one knowing that my friends in Connecticut had their Fall cut short by a crippling snowstorm. But maybe they can get some vicarious enjoyment from the reflective interlude of a little "New England" postcard from the Midwest.
Fall has that same sense of beauty tinged by angst that I feel in viewing a full moon. The greatest explosion of color coincides with the begin of the fading glory, however slight. Yet what a deception the Spoiler offers in the accompanying lure to avoid beauty, love, warmth just because it might fade or diminish. And even in earth's disappointments lie the seed of hope that God's love never wanes nor fades away.
And we are going to a city where the roses never fade!