Sunday, July 6, 2014
For example, a few weeks ago after a rain, my daughter, Rose, and I were strolling down our driveway on the way to Grandma's house. (She lives next door.) As we traveled east, the light from the sun setting behind us was broken down into a glorious arc of the visible spectrum, cast onto the sky before us. We were walking straight into an ever-increasingly visible rainbow. Instead of being suspended, it stood on the hills: two feet firmly planted on the horizon--a complete arc in between.
As we walked its brilliance steadily became more and more breathtaking. In her astonishment, Rose inquired, "Why do we have rainbows?" I, her father, her teacher, her guide, began to explain all sorts of things I knew very little about: water, light, angles of incidence and refraction, frequencies, photon packets--well, we didn't get to photons, but I was hoping we would. She dutifully listened until I finished my very sciency sentence, and then responded, "No. I mean why did God put it in the sky? What was the promise?"
Humbled and grateful, I changed gears. We traveled back to Genesis and talked about Noah, boats, animals, sin, and finding favor in the sight of God. We discussed how God makes promises and keeps promises: that the earth will never again be destroyed by water. We talked about how God and Noah and his family were like God and Christ and the church, like Peter talks about (1 Peter 3). We talked about God redeeming creation in Christ Jesus, like Paul talks about (Rom. 8).
After my second dissertation in 5 minutes, there was a brief pause. Then she said, "I wish I could slide down it into the pot of gold at the end." Before I jumped in and crushed her living and active imagination with another sagacious lecture, God gave grace, and I replied, "Me too, Rosie. Me too."