What a Wonder a Walk Can Be . . . When Only We Open Our Eyes and Look Up!

Ordinarily on Thursday's my lunch hour is spent with faculty colleagues, but this week's midterm exams prompted the cancellation of our regular departmental meeting.  I was delighted, then, to receive an invitation to join two of my best students for a relaxing lunch on the patio of the campus restaurant.  We sat outside to enjoy the sunshine and the increasingly warmer temperatures that have finally started to make their way to the eastern coast of Korea -- a bit later this spring than usual, I am told.

As our lunch progressed, though, the wind started to pick-up and even blew some exam review papers from the books on our table.  I had to make a quick dash to dab them before another gust took them over the wall and into the woods.  It also started to get a bit darker as some clouds rolled-in.  Today's forecast is calling for rain tomorrow, but it appeared now to be on its way to making an earlier arrival.

Following lunch, one of my students accompanied me on a walk back across campus.  We continued the conversation from our time around the table as we walked.  Then, all of a sudden, she stopped and said, "Professor, look up!"  As I did, I saw what can only be described as a broad brush stroke of blazing color across the clouds.  It wasn't a rainbow.  Yet, the full spectrum of light, from violet through every hue to red, was flowing over the clouds that had gathered above.

We were both stopped flat-footed, awestruck.  It was as if the Aurora Borealis were dancing in the midday sky.  As we stood gazing into the heavens, a few other students came walking by.  Some passed by without a pause, but a few wondered what we were looking at.  As they turned and looked-up, their mouths dropped open.  What a sight!  And, it didn't disappear in a few moments.  It lingered as the clouds moved slowly across the sky.  This "floating rainbow" stretched out its waves of brilliance.

Had I stayed in my office today and done what I ordinarily do -- focused my view on what is below -- the demands of the day -- I would have entirely missed the beauty that was shining above.  I'm thankful I was invited to take a walk.  I'm thankful I was urged to open my eyes and look-up!

In one of his most precious songs, Michael Card sings to his children and tells them of his prayers -- a father's longing for his children to see increasingly the wonder of life that will bring the sunrise of their smile.

Now close your eyes so you can see,
Your own unfinished memories,
Now open them, for time is brief,
And you'll be blest beyond belief,

Now glance above you at the sky,
There's beauty there to blind the eye,
I ask all this then wait awhile,
To see the dawning of your smile.

Looking ahead to Easter morning's sunrise, may I always be reminded to glance above me at the sky!

If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.   ~ Colossians 3:14

If I Stand, Let Me Stand Upon the Promise . . .

Something dawned on me the other week.  Actually, it has hit me like a ton of bricks!  I'm at Handong this semester teaching without Sandy.  She's back in the States continuing her nursing studies -- and doing quite well in them, I might add.  When we thought about me returning to teach here this semester, we thought that I could once again make it through a semester even though we would be separated by half a world's distance.

That expectation was based upon the fact that I've done it before.  In 2009, I taught here for a semester while Sandy was still back in St. Louis.  When I returned over the Christmas break that year, Sandy then joined in our return to Handong for the new semester that began in February 2010.  But, there is a big difference now.  Why it hadn't struck me before, I will never know.  But, I know the difference now.

My first semester's hermitage here at Handong in 2009 was during a Fall term.  This time I'm here in hermitage during the Spring!  You know, that time of the year when trees blossom, flowers bloom and birds begin to sing.  On top of the seasonal impact, there are also the many vivid memories of times Sandy and I spent just one short year ago exploring the Korean countryside and culture together.  Consequently, I find myself "longing for my home" a whole lot more these days than ever before while I've been here.

When I get into one of these increasingly more frequently-occurring "down" times, I have resorted to listening to my favorite musicians as a means of encouragement and comfort.  One particular concert given by Rich Mullins and his band back in the late 1990's is available in its entirety on YouTube.  His songs have become favorites and reliable sources of strength in these days when physical weariness only compounds a deeper psychological and spiritual disheartenedness (if that is even a word).

Here's one of Rich Mullins' songs that has been a special blessing to my soul during these cloudy days.  "If I stand, let me stand on the promise that You will pull me through . . . . "


. . . and if I weep, let me weep as a man who is longing for his home."

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. 


In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory.   (1 Peter 1:3-8)