I have a lake. Some would call it a pond, but, it is, in fact, a lake. It's my lake. I don't own it, it's not on my property, I can't even see it from my house. That matters not, it is still my lake. I pass it on my way into town. It's surrounded by trees, there are sometimes little ducks or geese floating on my lake. (I don't mind, as long as they clean up after themselves)
I am often struck by the beauty of my lake. When fall arrived and it was ringed with color it was simply breath-taking. I would pass by every Tuesday morning as dawn was cracking, on my way to take two of my boys to school. For some unknown reason they start an hour later once a week and, of course, mom just has to take them! Every week I would point out the beauty of the scene with the sun rising over it. They were unimpressed. What can you expect from half-asleep teenagers. Even still clad in my pjs, with my hair sticking up, my slippers on my feet, and a death grip on my coffee, I was awed each and every time.
Then, one day, the unthinkable happened. It was a dreary morning, no sun in sight and I was rushed, frazzled, hassled and stressed. I passed my lake and, anxious for a little pick-me-up, looked out across the water and said "eeewwww!" What happened to my lake???? All I saw was murky, muddy, nasty water with no beauty in sight. Where was the awe? Where was the little gasp of delight? Where were the ducks, the geese, the little stab of joy?? Who stole my lake and replaced it with this ugliness?!
I pondered this development as I ran my errands that day. On my return trip home, I slowed as I reached the bridge spanning my lake. I starred out over the water, seeing the same murky disappointment I had seen a couple of hours before. Then, my eyes readjusted. There it was! There was the beauty!
You see, I had been looking at the water. Yeah, I know, it is a lake after all, but I realized something. All those times I was met with the splendor of the lake I wasn't actually seeing the lake, I only thought I was. I was seeing what was being reflected by the water. It was the reflection of the sky, the sun, the surrounding trees that held the beauty, not the water itself. It was a gray day and with not much light shinning, it was easy to miss that reflection.
We are just like that lake, we are our own lake. What are we reflecting? Sometimes when you look at me you will see the murkiness of doubt, the muddiness of self-righteousness, the pond scum of vanity. When the temperature drops and the lake ices over the reflection is dimmed then too. When I get cold to the Holy Spirit, His ability to reflect through me is greatly hampered. But when I allow God's warmth to flood me and His light to shine in me I reflect Him and there is great beauty to be found there. It works the other way too. When I look at you, am I concentrating on the water of your faults or am using His eyes to see the reflection of Christ in you?
Who are you reflecting in your life? When your family, your neighbor, the bank teller, the lady in line next to you at the grocery store looks at you, what are they seeing? Are they seeing a living flow of water or do they see a dead, stagnant pool. Are you brimming with life, reflecting the rays of His love or are you devoid of anything living, dried up, used up and empty? Ask Him for a refill of that living water. Better yet, ask Him to make you a bubbling stream of living water that flows to a dry and thirsty world, one that reflects His glory, His grace, His beauty. Every living lake has a source. Make Him your source. Keep that water flowing!
In this new year, I'm asking God for new vision to see Him in those around me. It's hard to lose your temper and yell and fuss at someone when you see Him looking back at you through their eyes. I have to admit, my kids are really hoping for that one! My exhortation to you is to go, reflect!
So, I'll be here, still enjoying my lake, being reminded of this lesson every time I pass it. You won't be able to miss me. I'll be the one checking my mirror for any signs of algae in my teeth!
Soaked in His blessings,
Spokenfor
