John McClane and Snow Days
It’s Tuesday already? Wow, time flies, doesn’t it? I hope your week has started off well.
You may be keeping tabs on the latest poll about Christmas specials. Apparently a few have strong feelings about this issue. …And despite some thoughts to the contrary (ahem), “Die Hard” is not a Christmas movie, no matter how hard (ha ha) you men campaign! There, I’ve said it. Will you ladies back me up?
Goodness, how do I transition from that topic to this post’s main topic? I’m not sure there is an effective way, so I’ll just jump into it. Did you get snow this last week where you live? Much of the region here saw snow–anywhere from two to 12+ inches. Ahhh….a white Thanksgiving. I’ll take it! Thanksgiving Day we were able to gaze out of large windows as big, fluffy flakes drifted down and enrobed everything.
Our dog, Daisy, preferred to run around in it instead of just watching. She bounded around the white yard, would slow some, then abruptly bury her long nose about two inches down in the snow. Doing this always seemed to start a launch sequence: with a miniature mountain on her nose, she would suddenly take off like a NASCAR driver, racing furiously in circles against invisible canine competitors. When she came inside, the yard looked like a snowy version of crop circles.
…But before she was unleashed on the untouched snow, everything looked perfect. Have you ever noticed that snow tends to beautify and highlight things around you that you normally don’t see? Everything is different in white. Here’s an example: on the property of where I worked my previous job, an ordinary evergreen tree stood near the road. I passed it hundreds of times as I hurried back and forth from work assignments, but I hardly ever really looked at it. Because of my haste it might as well have been invisible, despite the fact that I love to look at trees.
But then a couple of times a year something magical would happen… A dusting of snow would grace the land, and that tree suddenly became breathtaking. I marveled at its beauty, driving a little more slowly just to drink it in a few seconds longer. Each individual, delicate branch was showcased because of the dazzling white. I wondered at not noticing the tree more often, and I smiled at the sight.
That reminds me of the wonder of how God transforms our lives. On our own we may be ordinary like that tree. Seemingly nothing special. We can choose to start a relationship with Him, though, and He transforms us — instantly and literally. Our loving Father showers on us the costly, whiter-than-snow gift of His righteousness and love. We are now different. And like the tree, who we really are becomes undeniably evident. We are who He created us to be all along… for the purpose of showcasing His glory.
And He smiles at the sight.
This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!