We climbed the rocky steep under a black velvet sky. A pearl of moon shimmered high above us, traveling in ellipse a quarter million miles away. So much of the universe, it seems, orbits around a centered subject. Surely a lesson here.
And there were stars–so many stars. A divine pointillism revealing a picture of grace. “Can you number them?” He asks.
Then in the clearing, a bonfire. We gathered there, knitting our hearts together as we recounted stories of gospel-grace, conviction of sin, and the good, hard road of sanctification. Some looked from the outside in, wondering at this light shining in darkness, pleading to have the pitch of their own hearts exposed.
We wrestled with big questions: What does it mean to fear God? What does it mean to fear man? Do we really live as if God will bring every act to judgment, everything which is hidden, whether it is good or evil? Do we really live as if the fire will reveal, consume and purify?
The smoke rose in continuous curls. Sparks ignited and spiraled toward sky. The wood cracked and popped as it submitted to consuming fire. And we lingered long, together crafting an anthology of grace.
At last, we bowed in prayer, trusting the hand of the Refiner and knowing that for those few hours, we had been on holy ground.