While hiking in Julian the weekend before last, I walked past this giant tree trunk, uprooted and charred by the most recent forest fire.
When I was a kid I'd draw pictures and write messages across our brick hearth with bits of burnt wood. They reminded me of the charcoal pencils my mom would use to make black and white sketches. There was always so much possibility in those little black sticks.
This blackened trunk looked to me like a giant charcoal pencil, packed with enough "ink" to fill the whole sky with pictures and messages. I found myself imagining God's giant hand picking up that giant pencil and writing me a message across the sky.
What would he say, I wonder?
What I hoped he'd say came to me quickly. It must have hovering on the surface of my secret heart. And you know, thinking about what I'd hope God would write to me across the sky has changed my prayer life this week. It's revealed a deep, aching desire in which I'd like God to be intimately involved.
So maybe, before you rush off to finish plowing through your day, you could stop and consider what you'd hope God would write across the sky for you. It might change the way you pray today, which might make your day lovelier.
© by scj