Ice and Snow, bless the Lord. (Daniel 3:70)
That verse seems very appropriate today here in Chicago on the feast of Epiphany. In Chicago, it has snowed off and on since Christmas and it is still snowing. Stores are mostly empty of shoppers as snow clogs side streets and makes a white wonderland of mall parking lots. Winter in Chicago.
Snow blankets roofs and trees and cars. Everything is moving much slower than normal. Pedestrians are making their way on sidewalks packed with snow, trying to avoid slip ups. It is white, white everywhere, with only the dark skeletons of oaks and sycamores to give contrast to the world as I see it from out my second-floor window.
The people come to pray, though, on this Sunday morning of Epiphany. The snow muffles the engines of their cars and the sounds of their conversations. Footsteps are silent this morning, but the Epiphany people are coming to the Eucharist.
Through my window, I'd like to see the three wise men trudging through the snow to our church, offering their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. I'd like to hope that as dawn breaks on our white, cold world, that the "dawn from on high" would shine upon us who walk in darkness and the shadow of death.
What is Epiphany but a flash of brilliant light in a place of starkness? So, let celestial angels sing out praise today. And, in our darkest nights, let a single star like lightning strike the murkiest places in our hearts, leading us to adore Him who is the Savior of the World.
That verse seems very appropriate today here in Chicago on the feast of Epiphany. In Chicago, it has snowed off and on since Christmas and it is still snowing. Stores are mostly empty of shoppers as snow clogs side streets and makes a white wonderland of mall parking lots. Winter in Chicago.
Snow blankets roofs and trees and cars. Everything is moving much slower than normal. Pedestrians are making their way on sidewalks packed with snow, trying to avoid slip ups. It is white, white everywhere, with only the dark skeletons of oaks and sycamores to give contrast to the world as I see it from out my second-floor window.The people come to pray, though, on this Sunday morning of Epiphany. The snow muffles the engines of their cars and the sounds of their conversations. Footsteps are silent this morning, but the Epiphany people are coming to the Eucharist.
Through my window, I'd like to see the three wise men trudging through the snow to our church, offering their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. I'd like to hope that as dawn breaks on our white, cold world, that the "dawn from on high" would shine upon us who walk in darkness and the shadow of death.
What is Epiphany but a flash of brilliant light in a place of starkness? So, let celestial angels sing out praise today. And, in our darkest nights, let a single star like lightning strike the murkiest places in our hearts, leading us to adore Him who is the Savior of the World.
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