the light in the lights

Last week the sky graced us with a mavelous display known as the northern lights.

I was tired, spent, still recovering physically from a head cold and drained due to a big impending work deadline.

But I wanted to see the lights. I yearned to, especially during a week where the beauty felt dim amid the mundane.

I needed a glimpse of wonder to keep me wondering.

I needed to gaze upon art from the great artist.

I called my sister and we ventured out into the night to find the aurora borealis.

You have to go to dark places to see this light. And you have to stay up late. Maybe later than you typically do.

We drove to a public access point on our great lake. And what we saw took my breath away.

Green lights like ghosts, but more ethereal, celestial. Like angels stepping into our realm, unaware of the attention they were drawing.

Twisting and turning like ballet dancers.

Alive.

Full of grace and beauty.

What we witnessed didn’t feel like merely a natural phenomena to me.

No, these lights in the sky felt spiritual.

My phone doesn’t have that handy feature called night vision, so I couldn’t capture any pictures of the northern lights.
But somehow that made the experience more special.

It reminded me of the moment in the Secret Life of Walter Mitty, where the photographer Sean O’Connel doesn’t take a picture of the snow leopard he’s been searching for throughout the whole movie.

Mitty asks him, When are you going to take it?

To which Sean delivers his infamous lines…

I felt similarly to Sean on the shores of my great lake, neck craning as I watched swirling green rivers in the sky cut through the darkness and illuminate the night.

I didn’t want distraction in that moment.

I just wanted to embrace it. Stay in it. Watch.

As I stared into the heavens, entranced with the beauty above me, I began asking the Great Artist questions.

“What does this mean?” I asked “Are these your signs in the heavens you warned us about?”

It’s rare for us to see the northern lights and yet twice we’ve witnessed them this year, in regions further and further south.

It has to mean something I kept thinking, as I stared at the flares of emerald flashing like a portal above me.

“What does it mean?” I kept whispering.

Then I felt the Spirit impress on my spirit,

“maybe it just means I love you. and that I wanted you to see me.”

I felt corrected and comforted all at once.

oh I do, I do want to see him.

And maybe that’s enough sometimes. A glimpse of his beauty. A reminder we live in a spiritual world and not merely a physical one.

There is a time for questions and for signs to be revealed, but there is also a time to be still. A time to remember that he is God and we are not.
A time for him to quiet us with his love like it talks about in Zephaniah 3:17.

I need my Savior more than his signs.

I need his love. I need to see him.

Especially in a world of chaos and division, heated politics, storms and despair.

My troubled heart needs quieting, by the comfort and correction of my God.

I need to see him, so desperately.

If you weren’t able to witness the northern lights last week, I pray you have the eyes to see the Great Artist somewhere else.

In the sunrise, or the sunset. In the mountains, in a song. In a friends smile. In a book. In a flower.

I almost didn’t go searching for the northern lights because I was tired and had an early wake up call.
But oh what I would have missed if I hadn’t sacrificed some sleep.

Oh what we all miss every day…

Because maybe we aren’t willing to sacrifice our pride, our comfort, our time…. our pleasures.

But God is a rewarder of those who diligently seek him. (Hebrews 11:6)
He does not forsake the ones who search for him. (Psalm 9:10)
He blesses the pure in heart with eyes to see him. (Matthew 5:8)
He wants us to search, and see. (Acts 17:27)

I know the night is dark, fellow sojourner. I know you’re tired. I know you’re spent.

But don’t give up.

Keep watching and waiting.

The light of all lights wants you to see him.

Even in the darkness.
Especially in the darkness.

(Picture credits go to my sister @lcgracephotography. her phone does have the handy night vision thing.)