The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed.
GM Hopkins
Whenever possible I go for an early evening walk, often along the nearby canal towpath. The sun is beginning its slow, languid slide towards the horizon, its rays increasingly slanting upward. Trees which have basked in sunlight all day are now tipped in gold, their lower leaves contrasting darkly. The sun's angles burrow into hitherto unlit recesses; tall bushes are set alight, green becoming gold, plain colours striped or dappled. Foliage I would have walked past, un-remarking, half an hour before now causes me to pause, shifting to see the sunlight's myriad effects... and yes - of course! - to get out my phone and take photos...
This transfiguration doesn't last long. As the sun continues its descent it gathers its brilliance back around itself, lighting up the sky instead. I walk back, and looking up and around, I see only lush greenness, unadorned leaves which - yes - are still beautiful in their plainness, even though they no longer flame out, like shining from shook foil. God's grandeur is still there, all around me, though less ostentatiously so.
I have not been invited up a mountain, there to watch - or hardly dare watch - a transfigured, brilliantly glorious Jesus conversing with Moses and Elijah. But today, and every day, I am invited to pause and take notice, to marvel, wonder and give awed praise, to recognise God's presence and transforming power in people and places I would otherwise walk past, un-remarking...
Happy Feast of the Transfiguration, everyone
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed.
GM Hopkins
Whenever possible I go for an early evening walk, often along the nearby canal towpath. The sun is beginning its slow, languid slide towards the horizon, its rays increasingly slanting upward. Trees which have basked in sunlight all day are now tipped in gold, their lower leaves contrasting darkly. The sun's angles burrow into hitherto unlit recesses; tall bushes are set alight, green becoming gold, plain colours striped or dappled. Foliage I would have walked past, un-remarking, half an hour before now causes me to pause, shifting to see the sunlight's myriad effects... and yes - of course! - to get out my phone and take photos...
This transfiguration doesn't last long. As the sun continues its descent it gathers its brilliance back around itself, lighting up the sky instead. I walk back, and looking up and around, I see only lush greenness, unadorned leaves which - yes - are still beautiful in their plainness, even though they no longer flame out, like shining from shook foil. God's grandeur is still there, all around me, though less ostentatiously so.
I have not been invited up a mountain, there to watch - or hardly dare watch - a transfigured, brilliantly glorious Jesus conversing with Moses and Elijah. But today, and every day, I am invited to pause and take notice, to marvel, wonder and give awed praise, to recognise God's presence and transforming power in people and places I would otherwise walk past, un-remarking...
Happy Feast of the Transfiguration, everyone
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