It was an art perfected on lazy sunlit afternoons: distilling the whole of the sun’s magnificent power into one blinding pinpoint through the lens of a magnifying glass. It took patience, a steady hand, and an eye that could keep gazing in spite of tears from the power of the focused sun.
And then there was the reward, when light and glass aligned just right: the sudden curl of smoke, perhaps an almost-flame at the edge of the newly-created black burn line.
Delighted, I used the sun to burn holes through leaves and write my name on small blocks of wood. I didn’t know that I was learning things about lenses and light.
Outside today the sunlight is bright and cold, and I think of how the whole fullness of deity was brought into focus in the frail human frame of the Christ, how, through Jesus, God the consuming fire is distilled into a blinding pinpoint capable of burning a man’s heart within him.
Under His patient hand and eye, we see the curl smoke and the edge of flame, and find that we ourselves now bear His name.
The Old Testament God thunders out “You are mine,” and Christ’s nail-torn hands show us how this is true.
©2016 by Stacy Crouch