Meditation Metaphor: Let it Snow

There's nothing quite like a big snow to capture my attention. Assuming I don't have to drive on the streets in a bad snowstorm, I love a snowy day.

With a toasty fire in the fireplace and a warm cup of coffee (decaf for me, please) in my hands, I can stand looking out the window for a long time, watching the snowflakes as they drift down from the sky and then drift into piles on the ground.

It fills me with a sense of peace and comfort, along with wonder at the intricacy of the seasons' clock. The clockmaker is a true craftsman. He has assembled a clockwork that not only has kept the seasons progression on schedule for thousands of years but also is capable of producing such beauty.

As the hours pass I realize that I can't just huddle in the warmth of my home and watch the snow fall. There's a snow shovel calling my name and a driveway to be cleared.

Once I'm outside the snowy scene takes on a whole different character from the one I was watching through the window.

The snow is cold and stings a bit when it touches my face. The wind and the air is also quite cold, sending a chill into my body that even my boots, overcoat, stocking cap, and gloves can't entirely ward away.

While each snowflake is barely heavier than the air itself, the drifted snow in my driveway has significant weight to it. I'm careful to slowly reacquaint myself with the proper body mechanics required for extended shoveling without extensive pain.

The physical exertion in the cold and snow is actually energizing. My blood gets to pumping and my muscles come alive with the effort.

Beyond the physical effects, there's a more elemental reaction that always comes from actually being out in the snow. No matter how old I get (I'm 57 now), being out in the snow makes me want to play.

The neighbors' kids have already given in to that urge. They're building a massive snow fort in the yard and offer to help me shovel if they can tote the snow over to their ramparts and battlements.

The youngest kids are more interested in catching snowflakes on their tongues and making snow angels.

When I need a break from the shoveling, I'll see how well their half-built fort can withstand a snowball attack. When they gang up on me and fell the giant with their return fire, I may indulge myself in  making a giant snow angel myself.

My flesh trembles in fear of you;
     I stand in awe of your laws. (Psalm 119:120)

I delight in your commands
     because I love them. (Psalm 118:47)

Those two verses paint a picture of two sides of the experience of meditating on the Word.

I've gained a great appreciation of God's character and his wisdom by spending time looking at the scriptures. His Word gives me comfort and inspiration.

What I would miss out on, though, if all I ever did was to stand at the window into His Word and observe from a distance.

My greatest joy in the Word comes when I go deeper, letting God's truths surround me and sting my heart with their startling intensity. What joy there is in flinging myself wholly into the teachings of the Bible and making snow angels in the precepts.

And what greater joy still when I suit up and go out into the world and make use of His wisdom in the work He has puts in my path. It energizes me through and through, and helps me to appreciate the beauty of His Word even more when I'm at rest, observing what He has done through the window of my Bible.