The beam from my flashlight cut through the inky black midnight darkness. A tree root hidden in shadow grabbed my foot and tried to trip me. For the fourth or fifth time, I wondered what the heck I was doing crawling out of my warm bed in the middle of the night to go outside and look at the sky.
Three days earlier, the sun, going through one of its cyclical tantrums, threw a significant solar flare straight at the earth. This would result, so said serious-looking scientists in their serious-sounding voices, in the Aurora Borealis—the Northern Lights—putting on a spectacular show. It might even be visible, they said, across the northern United States.
Now, Middle Tennessee, where I was currently tripping over tree roots in the dark, can hardly be considered part of the northern United States. All the handy charts and models showing the possible visibility of the Northern Lights left Tennessee out of the party ... way out. But this was a once-in-a-lifetime event, so they said, and I figured it couldn't hurt to take a look.
It had sounded like a much better idea the night before when I was setting my alarm to wake me up at 0 dark thirty than it did at the moment.
Having had my eyes on my feet in the dark, I hadn't looked at the sky. As I worked my way out from under the hickory, oak, cedar, and black walnut trees that fill our yard, I turned off the flashlight and closed my eyes to reset my night vision.
Opening my eyes, I turned to the north. My mouth dropped open in sheer astonishment. The night sky before me shimmered in a spectacular array of red and green. Amazingly, against all odds, the Northern Lights had arrived in Middle Tennessee. The sight so struck me that I actually felt like dropping to my knees. I whispered, "Thank You, Father."
The Lord reveals himself to us in many ways. Some are small and still, and some are just downright spectacular. This was definitely one of the spectacular ones. But the constant truth is we have to seek Him. Had I not forced myself out of bed, I might have missed God's amazing handiwork emblazoned across the sky.
Sometimes, seeking the Lord doesn't have to have a profound divine meaning or be a spiritual truth revealed, although those are wonderful when they happen. Occasionally, it is enough to simply gaze upon his amazing handiwork and say, "Thank you, Father."
Take some time to marvel over God's unique creation.
Kevin Spencer likes to play with words, help others play with them, and is privileged to be a staff writer for Christian Devotions. He lives with his beautiful blessing of a wife, Charlotte, and his amazing collegiate grandson, Caleb.