I was on the way to work and in the middle of a war. Spring was battling Winter and somehow a Fall breeze got caught up in the mix, too. It was a real duke-it-out showdown – I went from basking in the sunlight on one block to shouldering a brisk wind on the next.
Then, right before I ran down the steps to catch the A train on Bedford and Fulton, I looked up and saw this metal skeleton in the sky.
The sun made me squint at the place where the dark, rumbly clouds met the blue, peaceful sky. And right there in the meeting of the two was an empty billboard. I smirked a little to myself and then to the shops on the streets, now waking up and stretching into morning business.
I smirked because it felt like the glory of creation just got advertised on this empty billboard and I bought it.
I would buy it every time, but it’s free and that’s crazy because nothing is free here. I guess that is what stuck with me all day. Coffee is money and food is money and entertainment is money and happiness is money… but this Winter vs. Spring vs. Fall battle up in the sky in the middle of my morning commute – that was free.
One free, glorious display of creation where a billboard once propaganda-ed our hipster stitched pocketbooks. Yes, please.
The birds sang all over my coffee this morning, through the open window by the fire escape. I wish I knew their song. It seems like creation doesn’t hold back or get nervous or feel awkward about its praise.
It’s just the song inside and the only way is out.
The sunrise and the starlight and the sparrows under God’s watchful eye, all just singing out the songs buried inside. If I imagined myself into conversation with the birds outside my window and I asked them why they sang, I wonder what they would say. I wonder if they would think me silly and simple minded when they reply,
“…because we have song.”
This is the only option, but it is also the best and I love that the birds know that, and the mountains know that, and the life inside dead tree branches know that. Creation sings without shame or fear, but not to get glory.
Creation sings because the Creator gave them a song. And when creation sings, the songmaker is glorified.
I have a song inside, between doubts and delights and deserts. But the song is not for me. The singing is not so I can hear my own voice, but because I have a song. This, so that God would be glorified and others would see that I am also a part of the Spring chorus of sunlight and starlight and sparrows letting loose melodies into the sky.