When I got into bed late last night, I saw that my sister had left the blinds open on our bedroom window. It’s the week leading up to a full moon right now, so most of the moon was brightly visible in the sky. I was amazed at how much light it produced in the dead of night. Moonlit beams streamed into our room and landed on my bed. It was peaceful. Calming.
I sat and gazed at it for several minutes, marveling that a hunk of rock such as the moon could reflect such lovely light. When I’ve gone to my local planetarium–one of my favorite places–I’ve looked at the little moon rock they have on display and it’s dark. An app that I use to stargaze stated that the moon’s surface is similar to the color of charcoal; that’s how dark it is. Yet it radiates brilliant white light because it reflects the sun–not because it has any of its own.
And as I sat on my bed and stared at the moon out the window last night, it reminded me of how dark my own heart is. How down and bitter it can get. How forlorn and sinful. And yet it encouraged me that when the face of my heart is turned towards the Son, the darkness is a tool used to reflect the Son. Brilliantly. Brightly. Not because my heart has any light in and of itself. Yet in the midst of the darkness of night, His glory can be seen reflecting from my heart.
Just as the dark moon reflects the sun.
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