Turn off your lights so you can see

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Do you ever wonder what a person from 200 years ago would think if you just plonked them down in the middle of one of our cities?

Sometimes as I’m driving along I’m struck by the absurdity of the world I live in – a world that would surely be incomprehensible to people only three or four generations before me.

The concrete jungles that fall like a perfectly normal backdrop for our existence have, in reality, only existed in the last 100 years.

As we march forward, proudly carrying the greatest of human progress, I wonder if we have failed to stop and look for what we can no longer see. We’ve replaced so much of what is natural for what is artificial and many of us have lost God in the process.

It does not astound me that atheism’s unprecedented growth has coincided with the industrial revolution. Humanity cannot find God in his creation because they are blinded by the glory of their own creation. As I drive through the city my vision is dominated by cars and roads and buildings and power lines and paths and lights and planes and clothes and shoes and fences and windows… and suddenly man is the creator.

If only we would turn off our fluorescent bulbs for a second, we might be able to see beyond ourselves; to see that before we had covered the earth with our creations, far superior creations existed, and they must have come from somewhere.

When the world gets stifling…

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I have a lot of things on my mind at the moment. Nothing major, just all together they start to add up. I find my mind spinning with plans, agendas, moral issues and sometimes fears.

My mind is so busy, that it’s time to stop for a minute and think about some things that I love; the simple things; the things that are still there when all the busyness fades away.

Today I’m thinking about the night sky. Living in the city I don’t always get to see it in all it’s glory, but it makes it all the more special when I get out into the country and lie in a field and become captivated by the vastness of the sky. I love to drink in the millions of stars and the complexity of the universe.

Somehow the more complex the natural world appears, the less complex my life seems, because it reminds me that I have a God who holds it all in His hands.

My life and its complications will fade away, but my ability to wonder over and delight in the complexity of God will live on for an eternity.

So, when the world gets stifling, it’s often time to look beyond. Beyond our politics and selfishness and general humanity, beyond time even, beyond this world to the eternity that we are to live for. And if eternity had a face, for me, it would look like the night sky.

Winter’s Silver Lining

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I really don’t like winter. I think there might be a slight international misconception that Australians don’t have winter. I can assure you that we do. While our whole country may not get entirely shrouded in snow, we get plenty of it in some areas.

Just last week we had a rare snowfall just outside my city, and the chilly days that followed have reminded me that the next stop south from where I live is Antarctica.

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I dread this time of year, but there is one great blessing amongst all this. We get to see the sky. Unlike some countries, we are not subjected to a months-on-end existence under an oppressive blanket of cloud.

Yesterday morning I drove to work beneath a cobalt blue sky with the sun shining through my windscreen. It might be cold, but blue sky is not uncommon here in winter, and it really lifts my spirits.

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Sometimes the sunshine confuses the jonquils and lilacs, and they bloom early; fragrant beacons of hope reminding us that spring will come.

Living in the driest state of the driest continent, where we tend to believe we’re drowning if we get three days straight of rain, I’m reminded of how blessed we are to still have dry sunny days, even in the middle of winter.