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• transformation

My favorite color is red. Those that know me well know that I avoid and detest the color pink. Maybe because I was super-saturated by it as a kid, or maybe because I see pink as a red wanna-be. Whatever the reason, I don’t like pink; but Easter morning 2014, I gained a new appreciation for the way God showed me a beautiful shade of pink.

That Easter morning, I joined with two other families in Brighton, Colorado, for a sunrise service at a friend’s property just outside of town. It was difficult to get up that early and the rain the night before made for a very brisk morning, but it was most definitely worth it.

We prayed, sang songs in worship, read Scripture, and were reminded of the beautiful hope of the resurrection—a hope we don’t have to wait to rejoice in only once a year, but can celebrate every day!

As the sun was rising in the east, the sky changed from reds and yellows to a clear blue sky filled with a sun that began to warm us. When the sun rose enough for its light to kiss the snow-capped mountains in the west, I stood in breathless wonder of the beautiful sight to behold. The mountains were glowing pink.

My aversion to pink was totally set aside for several minutes of silent splendor of the beautiful shade of pink God had used to paint the mountains.

I apologize for not attempting to capture the scene in a picture. I truly believe a picture would not do it justice. However, I encourage you allow God to transform your perspective—to take a new look at the way God paints something you have an aversion to.

• faith

Last year, after returning from a trip to Buenos Aires, Argentina, and Bogota, Colombia, my vision was so blurred that I was became afraid that I was losing my sight completely.

The optometrist discovered a virus on my corneas. I was grateful to have “unveiled” the reason for my blurred vision, but in the days that followed the diagnosis, I wrestled with what that diagnosis implied for my physical body and my ability to work.

As the blurriness subsided, eye fatigue and eye strain continued to be factors, and seeing detail, especially to read, was nearly impossible.

Much of what I do in life and in ministry is dependent on eyesight. No matter how good a typist I claim to be, I need to be able to proof what I have written—whether for a blog post, a thank-you note, or the lessons I am working on.

There is much value in the Word that is written in my heart, but I was unable to read and study the Word as I would like, whether for a devotional thought or in preparation for the next book.

I wrestled with feelings of guilt and frustration—mostly because, yet again, I was focused on a dependence on my own abilities. I was quite literally reminded that I must walk by faith, not by sight.

In what ways are you depending on your own abilities—your “sight”—instead of walking by faith?