The Phil Files

The last two days have been cold, wet, and windy. Typical bad weather for west Texas in late November and early December. Not the kind of days that make you want to fall down on your knees and give thanks, that’s for sure. But both days had moments of stunning beauty that most never saw!

I am a bow hunter — nobody go bonkers on me on that one, it’s mostly bow-sitting and quiet time as you will see. So in the middle of the bad weather yesterday, I slipped out to a beautiful place in the country with hills and trees. About the time I got there, it started sprinkling and gave way to a gentle rain. For brief periods of time, the sky cleared and the sun broke through for a bit, but mostly it was cold, cloudy, and windy. Thankfully I had guessed perfectly on what to wear: I wasn’t too cold or too hot, I was just right!

I crawled into a little pop up blind and spent the next two hours listening — listening to the rain patter on the tent, listening to the birds signaling movement in the trees, listening to the wind, and listening to the soft footfalls of deer. Two healthy bucks showed up, both young — one a six point and the other an eight point. I passed on them both and just watched as they milled about for thirty minutes or so, then meandered on. Then a gorgeousness red fox showed right before dark. His coloring was brilliant. His movements secretive. But he found no rabbit, so he too moved on.

As I climbed out of the little blind in the darkness, I looked to the west. The last rays of sun caught the remaining clouds on the horizon and set them ablaze in purples and oranges. The moon was setting about forty-five minutes behind the sun, and it was a delicate sliver of orange hanging just below Jupiter and Saturn in a sky too wondrous for words.

As I drove in to church early this morning, I was reflecting on the beauty of the sunset yesterday. I knew most had completely missed it. It was just a raw early winter day for them. Yet in the middle of a messy day was a treasure of genuine beauty. Not only did I witness it; it refreshed my spirit. I rejoiced in God’s creative goodness. Then as if on cue, the sun slid from behind the morning clouds and the sky came alive with color. It was too early on a holiday Sunday for most to witness, but it was glorious.

Now the soft rain has set back in, the skies are a hard gray, and the wind is biting and cold. Most never saw either the glorious sunset of yesterday or sunrise of today. They were unaware of God’s gift in the middle of a lamentable weather. But I saw it and was blessed.

Makes me think about the time when Jesus came. Most never saw God’s grace dawn and His glory revealed. But for those that did, there was — and is — great joy … a joy that must be shared and beauty that must be declared.

Makes me think of Zechariah’s song at the birth of John, the cousin Jesus, who prepared the way for the coming of the Lord:

“And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High;
for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him,
to give his people the knowledge of salvation
through the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven
to shine on those living in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace.” (Luke 1:76-79 TNIV)

Let’s not forget to share what we’ve seen!