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.
She's very interested in what he's interested in, don't you think? I pray this will continue for this dear couple and am reminded of how important it is to give attention to each other. Real attention. Listening with intent attention.
I'm not crazy about the fuzziness of this image; it was taken without flash in low light (so as not to distract my subjects!). But on further reflection, maybe it lends an effect that supports the thought. What do you think?
"And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and
the lesser light to rule the night: he made the stars also." (Gen. 1:16)
Back to a favorite subject. This one captured off the coast of Cephalonia, Greece as we steamed westward towards Rome. It was fun to imagine the same moon being seen by our family stateside several hours later.
The "lesser light" can only reflect that of the greater and yet when it turns its full face to the Source, how great the glory! And how apparent the path that it illuminates across the water.
Try to imagine this entire theatre filled to its 24,000 person capacity, everyone shouting "Great is Diana of the Ephesians!" over and over again for two full hours. The roar must have been deafening. And most of them didn't even know why they had gathered together. (Acts 19)
Turns out some silversmiths were pretty concerned that this new Christianity thing might really catch on. Not that they were that worried about their business or anything. Really, mostly just concerned that the "great goddess" (Artemis) might be offended and her magnificence destroyed throughout Asia. So they stirred up the people. Even before talk radio. Or presidential campaigns.
We probably can't do too much about those who will always try to stir up the crowd and demagogue the issues. But we can stop and make sure we aren't running headlong behind them, not knowing why we're even there. To the contrary, just across the Aegean Sea, the Bereans were called noble because they searched the scriptures to see if what they were hearing was sound. (Acts 17:10-11)
We're all familiar with the "Objects in the Mirror may be closer than they Appear" warnings. A picture can also be quite deceiving if there is nothing in the image to help us with the scale. The mammoth Coliseum, its ruins actually a shadow of the original grandeur, presents such a challenge. If you look closely, you can see the people; and thus the scale.
How often in life do we react (over-react?) to something when we lose our sense of proportionality. Fear can grip and our minds extrapolate to the "worst case" or "nth degree". Maybe that's part of why I enjoy flying so much -- the perspective from even a few thousand feet above the ground affords just a small reprieve from the sometimes overwhelming nature of everyday life.
Yet most important is to trust God, whose infinite power and love dwarfs all fear and despair.
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." (Isaiah 55:8-9)
This shot returns me to a favorite thought, captured best in the hymn, "Let the Lower Lights Be Burning" and featured originally here.
I love a good lighthouse. They come in all shapes and sizes and are often quite photogenic (more will appear here when I have a chance to travel with my digital camera to a suitable spot!). But it's their purpose that is so interesting. Silent sentinels warning sailors about the rocky shore lest they should become shipwrecked so near their destination. Some people stand strong in our lives, their lights radiating in a way that just inspire us to live circumspectly.
But it's often the less noticeable examples that seem most noble to me. This little guy isn't all that grand. But our giant ship would have come to grief even on the tiny spit of land it marks had we sharpened our turn towards the port of Argostoli on Cephalonia, Greece.