A Meditation on Restoration
There is something melancholy about the way that light leaves.
Most of us have felt it in the setting sun. When the rays slip past, you cannot call them back. Once they hit the retina, they are gone. Light is absorbed or refracted, and then the shards leap away and are gone forever. Light and Time; they are both this way: in their true forms, they exist infinitely—but we encounter them only in scarcity. We are not strong enough to catch and follow, step into their stream and ride them to their source.
This is why broken light is sad. The dying sun is a little like a setting life, representing something invaluable that should not end, but does.
Therefore, there is a sense in which a man who could fix a broken light could mend the world. And I’m happy to say that ‘man’ is Jesus Christ.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Broken Light
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2 comments:
Ah... that's how I've always felt about fading light. The sun is at it's most beautiful just before it leaves us: this rich midas tough that turns everything to gold... I think God realised how sad I am without sun, hence me being born in a place with plenty of it all year round! Lovely photos Ariel, I'm looking forward to more Friday beauties :)
Thanks, Verashni! Being in a sun-drenched locale has got to be good for morale. :) But then, most of us know that getting outside in the sunlight doesn't just have physical implications.
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