I’m gazing out my window through a cobweb. Huge, it covers a third of the broad pane–a mighty feat for a spider, an architectural wonder: parallels latched to radials, tight-stretched and precise.
Yet debris blown in has already marred it and hapless creatures trapped in its clutches have broken it. And as soon as I get the chance, I’ll be sweeping the whole thing away.
Even as it hangs there, I shift position and look past its translucence, my eyes quickly drawn to the sky drama beyond, to swirling clouds gleaming white and silver and platinum against a bright blue sky. And the cobweb fades from view.
Such it is with life: a time to build up, a time to tear down, a time to be born, a time to die. We work so hard, yet time sweeps away our efforts, and greater glories outshine them. But let’s look beyond them, to the place of greatest glories.
Death came early to my friend’s door. Suddenly–like the brushing away of a gossamer—the thread of her life disappeared from this earth where I sit at a window, mesmerized by a sky. As I stare and sigh and murmur quiet wonder, I think of her.
“Eye has not seen, nor has ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him” (1 Cr 2:9). If such glory is mine even here, what is she who loved Him much in earth-life experiencing where the apostle Paul witnessed wonders indescribable (2 Cr 12:2)?
How rich, how sweet, the beauty I can see before me! Yet, how much richer, sweeter must be the beauty lying, waiting beyond, all unseen!
I sit and ponder and rest in hope, the hope that does not disappoint (Romans 5:1-5).
[reposted from the archives]