light

The splendor of a King,
Clothed in majesty
Let all the earth rejoice...

He wraps himself in Light,
And darkness tries to hide
And trembles at His voice...
- Chris Tomlin, How Great is Our God

Two days ago, a massive wall of dust stormed the greater Phoenix area. (Check out this amazing photo from the Arizona Republic).

It was quite a sight -- magnificent, really. It rolled through our city like a cumulus cloud on steroids, bringing with it a fierce wind and sporting a very unpleasant disposition. It painted everything a light shade of brown with broad, angry brushstrokes. Delaying flights and downing power lines, the gusts ripped leaves off trees and littered the streets and sidewalks with large chunks of debris. Teeny tiny dust particles flew up and into crevices best left undisturbed. Asthmatics, allergics and contact lens wearers, beware!

I'm guessing that more than one person entertained the idea that this sudden weather anomaly was a sure sign that the Apocalypse had arrived. After all, it was 6/6/06.

I would have preferred to stay home and safely watch the fury unfold from the comfort of my patio balcony, but I had told Aaron that I would take dinner to him at work. Ever the faithful employee, he had volunteered to do a double-shift to fill in for an absent co-worker. Ever the faithful wife, I was determined to keep my promise.

Throwing caution to the unforgiving wind, I got in my car and anxiously drove 15 miles with less than three car lengths visibility in front of me. The road signs were unreadable, and the mountain that I knew existed immediately to my right was rendered completely invisible, shrouded by the dense dark storm.

I was, in a word, scared.

Fortunately, this story does have happy ending. You will be relieved to know that I made it (just barely) to my husband without bodily harm to myself or my fellow drivers. We had dinner together, and by the time I kissed him goodbye the storm had moved on to terrorize another unsuspecting city.

I drove away, west, towards home. A perfectly round, bright orange ball hung heavy and low in the sky, flaming and radiating and glowing intensely, as if in bold defiance of the darkness that had come before.

Dark and Light. Night and Day. Good and Evil. Happy and Sad. I live my life in slow shifts of complacency from one end of the spectrum to the other, so easily that sometimes I am numb to how different they really are. But the dark storm and the piercing sun was an object lesson in extremes, in the fact that often God gives us the hard times because we NEED them to fully appreciate and understand His blessings. Because hope is made real when one has known despair. Because joy is made full when one has known sorrow. Because light is made brilliant when one has passed through dark.

I was stunned. My eyes were fixated on the luminous orb. I couldn't stop looking; I didn't want to stop looking. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that everything around me was aglow.

The world was washed in His light.

"In your light, we see light." - Psalm 36:9