Saturday, September 29, 2012

The Moon

3:00 AM. A riverbed is cloaked in a heavy navy darkness. Dark clouds cover the sky. Frogs are singing to the tune of the crickets' violins. Marsh-reeds rock slowly to and fro in a gentle breeze. On the other side of the river lays a vast field of wheat, still in the night. Far beyond the field lies a deep pine forest. All is calm. I take several deep breaths, slowly. My eyes flicker, enchanted into sleep by the peace. On my side of the river lies a steep slope, peaked by pine trees. I sit among the trees, at the edge, wearily looking down the slope and across the river. Minutes creep by as I lean against the trunk of the pine tree. I peer upwards into the night, and notice the clouds are vanishing and the moon is appearing. The sky grows brighter until the full moon makes its appearance. Soft light gives way to brilliance as the moon momentarily blinds my dark-accustomed eyes.

I weep at this beauty, and peer intently into its face. The longer I look, the more I see. Uniform whiteness melts into shades of grey and yellow as I look upon yonder moon. Deep crevasses and age-old craters scar and beautify its surface. Such a contrast to the darkened still night! This bright glowing orb which pierces the night and illuminates the world! I look into the river below and see a hazy mist hanging over its surface. The moon is reflected perfectly in its still waters. I stand up. Stretching, I wheel about-face and peer into the darkened forest behind me. Many hours ago I first came through this post-dusk land. Night had already settled its claws into the trees and the birds were settling in their nests. Now it seemed almost like day. Every few feet of darkness was punctuated by bright spotlights. The moon cast them.

Jesus is the moon.                                                                                              Image by wyldraven

I'm 30 years old. A world is cloaked in a heavy moral darkness. Dark figures cover its history. Small men sing to the sad tune of broken men. Apartment buildings and sky scrapers stand bitterly rooted in their concreted soil. On the other side of the world lies a vast slum, still in its death. Even further lies the mountain villages. All is silent. I have several years, but I quickly lose them. My eyes flicker shut, enchanted into sleep by the Devil. In my land lies a steep social hierarchy, peaked by the media and business giants, presidents and supermodels. I sit at the base of the ladder, wearily looking up the ladder of "success". Lives creep by as men die. I look away from the world and into the heavens above me. What I once knew as true was quickly disappearing. The clouds and veils that had always covered the face of God, vanishing. Jesus Christ was appearing. The heavens grow brighter and brighter until Jesus, Lord of Time, appears in all His brightness. Softer shades of morality give way to the full brightness of Holiness. My eyes are blinded.

 I weep at this beauty and peer intently into His face. The longer I look, the more I see. His Godhood encompasses also His compassion, His gentleness, His burning love - as jealous as fire. His nail pierced hands and side wound scar and beautify Him. Such a contrast to the darkened still world! This brightly glowing Son of God which pierces the night and illuminates the world! I look down into the world below, and see what I did not before. Poisonous mist hangs over its surface. Yet Jesus is even there. I stand up. Thanking God, I look behind me into the past. Many years ago I came travelling through time. Darkness had long seeped into my body: I was rooted into it. Yet now my past showed where Christ had worked to bring me to repentance. The Spirit of Christ did this.

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