Yesterday I saw the biggest, prettiest rainbow arch over the city where I live, and it made me think of how wonderfully and amazingly miraculous God's grace is.
I found myself explaining to the friend I was with how rainbows are made by sunlight shining through water droplets. It's not a physical object. Nobody's ever touched it. No man owns it.
In contrast to the dull and hazy artificiality of the city scape, there it was so ordinarily natural and yet so miraculously wonderful or wonderfully miraculous, whichever is most fathomable to you.
I no longer thought it unfair that there never are any auroras in this part of world.
Kids nowadays (or at least the ones I know) rarely use the word "rainbow." It's as if the word and the phenomenon it refers to doesn't exist beyond the nursery books in their reality. It breaks my heart to think such a wonder should slip away unnoticed. Perhaps they're all too busy staring into flat screen TVs, tablets, smartphones, PSPs. Too busy, just too busy to look up.
Together, my friend and I remembered how God first spread the rainbow across the sky after the world's sins and cleansing. The rainbow is a promise. To them, to him, to me.
Grace, wonderful grace.
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