Saturday in the Second Week of Lent
You speak in my heart and say, “Seek my face.”
Your face, Lord, will I seek.
The light reaches through the slats of the blinds splashing patterns across the floor and wall. If I sit here long enough, I can perceive the movement of the sun, or the rotation of the earth, as I track the passage of light and shadow across the room.
A month ago this light would not have been here at this time of day. But the earth still would have been rotating around the sun. Whether I trace it or not, the dance of heavenly bodies continues in more than one expanding universe.
God too moves beyond my senses, creating arcs that I will never perceive, and nevertheless leaving designs for me to discover and study, to follow and dance along, to be thrilled and challenged by.
One cannot look on the face of God and live. Yet, this is the face I am to seek. I am asked to search out the one who breathed life into me and will surely consume me if I look her straight in the eye.
The light has moved. Or I have moved or the room has moved or the earth has moved or God has moved. The sun warms the back of my neck through the window closed against the winter cold. I turn my head and lift my face.