The sight was jaw-dropping exhilaration, and at the same time, silent. Very silent. The coal-colored sky provided the perfect backdrop for an inspiring array of glittering lights that sparkled like diamonds across the horizon. Some stood out with more brilliance than others but all seemed to be speaking the same universal language. The view was endless, eternal, expanding as far as the eye could follow. The constellation of stars struck me as pure, intangible, and idyllic. I, felt simply like a small mortal speck in the mass cosmos.
That moment on a North Carolina hilltop in the brisk cool autumn evening held me in transcending admiration. I was wearing the uniform of a United States soldier, training to become an elite Special Forces soldier. Leaning against a tree, my rucksack next to me on one side, my M-16 automatic assault rifle on the other, I let the cold water from a green plastic canteen flow down my throat; tiny droplets escaping and streaking down my chin. Although it was in the low fifties with a brisk wind, I removed my patrol cap briefly to wipe away the sweat from my forehead.
Although this rare instant to ponder was before me, it was, however, not the first nor the only time that I witnessed the heavens broadly proclaiming God’s craftsmanship. Quite often, I have noticed when the skies spoke to me without a sound or word; that moment when a voice is never heard. Yet, I heard, felt, and understood its message, one that has gone, and continues to go throughout the earth. It is a time when the wind blows wherever it wants and just as we can hear it without being able to determine where it is going, so it is with the Spirit of God (John 3).
That moment on a North Carolina hilltop in the brisk cool autumn evening held me in transcending admiration. I was wearing the uniform of a United States soldier, training to become an elite Special Forces soldier. Leaning against a tree, my rucksack next to me on one side, my M-16 automatic assault rifle on the other, I let the cold water from a green plastic canteen flow down my throat; tiny droplets escaping and streaking down my chin. Although it was in the low fifties with a brisk wind, I removed my patrol cap briefly to wipe away the sweat from my forehead.
Although this rare instant to ponder was before me, it was, however, not the first nor the only time that I witnessed the heavens broadly proclaiming God’s craftsmanship. Quite often, I have noticed when the skies spoke to me without a sound or word; that moment when a voice is never heard. Yet, I heard, felt, and understood its message, one that has gone, and continues to go throughout the earth. It is a time when the wind blows wherever it wants and just as we can hear it without being able to determine where it is going, so it is with the Spirit of God (John 3).