It has been such a gift to see the heart of Christ at play. While I take nothing away from His glorious power and strength, I find He has a playful side that melts my heart. It’s a side of Him we often miss in the body of Christ. The enemy surely would like to skew His image and make Him a mean ole’ monster of sorts. Yet, this is not our Jesus. When He tells us to come like a little child, I believe Him. It’s likely one of the most overlooked ways to know Him better. When He sees a heart willing to grab His hand and walk along side Him, He always delivers a lovely psalm, a captivating story, a delightful poem, or vibrant visual for one to take in. It’s simply breathtaking to me.

All creation points to Him and so He has allowed me to see vividly at times intricate loveliness in that which He has made. So much is hidden within every blossom, limb, or creature. We could learn so much just in studying each one.

I can see His desire of heart for great beauty as I gaze upon a field of flowers. I can recall scriptures of His power as He calls the wind from it’s storehouse. I can see His glory hidden among the clouds, and watch each blade of grass or leaf of a tree respond to the blowing of the wind.  I can question Him on why the rain failed to come in time to save a lot of beauties and yet be reminded the same goes for us. No rain, no flowers. All things and circumstances teach us.

He is always at work….yet always at play. Don’t miss Him while you work. Stop and watch as He plays. In this playful moment, you will catch a deeper glimpse of His very heart.

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“At Work and At Play”

 

It fascinates me the color of leaves

The sizes and shapes of each little thing

The intricate design unique to each

The same does go for you and for me.

 

He must then be jolly wouldn’t you say?

For who wouldn’t be to make and create

Such joyful designs with lavish green blades

I’ve seen His dear heart at work and at play.

 

The perfect positioned leaf on a stem

Prickly pines with pine cones on them

Meadows of grass that bend with the wind

Peculiar rose buds with thorns on their limbs.

 

If ever I tire of beauty that bathes

Every sunrise, every ocean with waves

If flowers become for granted I take

Remind me, dear Lord, to watch as you play.