The northern winters of my youth covered the ground with snow for months—so long that I would almost forget what the yards and fields looked like. When the snow receded under the spring sun I would greet the ground like a lost friend bearing treasures I had thought stolen. “Oh, there’s my baseball bat. It was out near the mailbox all winter. I just couldn’t see it for the snow.” Spring was more than a rebirth of the dormant land. For me, it was a rediscovery of the true nature of the ground that had been obscured by the snow. I did not spend much time wondering where the white went when the snow melted, I just rejoiced in the sun.
I do not believe that the Lord made the things over which man obsesses to lead us to evil. It is man’s choice to exceed the Lord’s proper dram of Scotch or female beauty that leads to an obsession that blocks out the Light. It was my self-delusion to gaze upon the obsessions of my neighbor with horror, while ignoring my own. In truth, we were both dormant, like the land in winter—our true natures obscured by a blanket of snow, waiting for the light of the Lord to burn it away and reveal those treasures we had thought long stolen.
And now, it being spring in the autumn of my life, I try (as best I can) not to dwell too much on where my white went. I feel the Lord urging me to rejoice in the Light.
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