Can You See the Glory?

When I think of Glory, I see light. The burning bush. The angel in front of the Maid Mary. Sunrise at Arches National Monument.

I wonder how often we miss Glory. We confine it to those rare events that somebody has to name for us later, the particular bush, the rare angel, the only manger.

My wife takes me for a drive. Central Oregon where I live is magnificent -- the twisted juniper, the lambs in the field, the surrounding volcanic mountains. But she has to tell me, Look up! Glory!

One of the "tells" of my depression is that the light dims. I remember an ad for an antidepressant that started out in tones of sepia and grey. That's what it's like really, dull, lifeless, constrained. Depression is a prison with bolted doors, so self-absorbing that I don't even notice the light has gone out.

Until it comes back. One day the depression releases me, I walk out the door, and I see in color again. Glory!

It's true of the other senses, as well, taste, smell, touch, hearing. All of these come alive in the midst of glory. Or rather, when we awaken to them, we awaken to Glory!

The earth already is filled with the Glory of God, as the waters cover the sea..