With the glee of a child, I woke up before my alarm went off this morning, eager to see the splendor of the snow in the daylight. I pressed my face up against the window to see the white snow-laden branches against the blue sky and decided that simply wasn’t good enough; I needed to get out in the snow.
Booted and hatted, I slipped out of the quiet house into the likewise quiet winter wonderland. Snow in Alabama is one thing, but 3 inches of it? It’s kind of amazing.
I wandered around our apartment complex and down the street, marveling at the trees, the gleaming snow-blankets on every car, icicles on signs, and the noisy, cheerful birds.
For someone who isn’t used to snow, snow is still magical and beautiful. I wanted to roll in it, make snow angels, be a part of it. (I stopped myself because I realized I’d get wet – I guess I’m officially an adult.) Just looking at the snow wasn’t quite satisfying enough.
Contemplating my desire to be a part of the wintry beauty, I recalled a section of C.S. Lewis’s essay “The Weight of Glory” that addresses that very desire. He recognizes that the desire we feel when looking at something beautiful, like a sunset, is a desire to do more than just behold the beauty: we want to participate in it. Lewis suggests (and I would agree) that this desire to participate in beauty is an indication of how we’re made to participate in God’s glory. Not just behold his glory, not just look at how awesome it is, but actually to be a part of God’s glory.
The snow is almost all melted now. But God’s glory doesn’t fade.
“At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of the morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumour that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in.”
– C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory