to be alone with me (us)

This morning, I woke up with the chorus of a song in my head:

"To be alone with me
 To be alone with me
 To be alone with me
 You went up on a tree."

Last night I was worried about a lot of things that are ultimately out of my control. I was driving to meet a friend and the "what if's" started to knock on my door. I tell my friends that the "what if's" will destroy but until you experience the battle, it becomes a mere phrase that covers a large wound.

As I turned the corner of my street just before the highway, I caught sight of something absolutely spectacular. A sunset. I was completely in awe of such beauty. The shades of blues, yellows and whites were intricately woven together across the horizon of the skyline. It was a picture that no painter could have ever produced. Creation was the author.

In this moment, I was reminded that God is in control. It is not by my doing that the sunset was beautifully formed or that the grass turned green. No. I cannot do these extraordinary things that are so simple for God to do. Instead, I stand as a breathless child who experiences a rainbow for the first time. 

Last night, I was mesmerized by such indescribable beauty and comforted by the truth that it's ok. It's quite all right that I do not possess nor have all the answers to all the questions that tumble around in my mind. It's quite all right that I may not know exactly what happens today, tomorrow or ten years from now. For when I get  worried and long for unending assurance, God wraps me in a hug. The kind of hug that a mother gives to her child after she falls and scrapes her knee. Or when a guy and girl who are in love just sit and gaze at each other, each equally lost in the amazement that they could be loved by someone. God gives us this universal hug that crosses all bridges in order for us to give that love to someone else. His beauty is nature, his face is found in the homeless and his heart is nailed up on the cross for all to see. We can choose to walk by the human statue or stop, take it in, and ask "what then shall I do?"