The Grass Withers

I have been hanging out in Isaiah and Ecclesiastes lately. Some of the verses can be downright depressing. The grass withers and the flowers fade. People are like grass. (Isaiah 40). Or the passages about life being meaningless, boring, the same old thing with nothing new under the sun. (Frankly, most of Ecclesiastes repeats this refrain.) It is all chasing after the wind, and then you die. Quite gloomy!

However, while we are here, we and the grasses are for a season of expressing God's beauty. Each day is a gift given to be enjoyed. I found myself walking down Vista Ridge Drive to the fence that prefaced the view of Mt. Evans on my left. The open space on the right was filled with yellow sweet peas and lavender wild iris. When I thought I had seen all there was to see God started opening my eyes to the extreme beauty of the tiniest grasses. Some were still clinging to droplets of morning dew. Others stood out in their subtle colors as magnificent stalks taking the forefront to the larger and more brilliant yellow sweet peas. Others would have gone unnoticed by me, but the Holy Spirit was whispering that even though the grass withers, God is revealing himself in it. Divine appointments with simple blades of grass that will soon pass, yet in their time glorify our Creator.