Pink Line, Moon, and Geometry: How God Speaks to Me

I went running this morning. I’m determined to make it to 10,000 steps today. As I climbed the hill behind my house, I saw the moon high in the sky, winking at me. I turned the corner, away from the moon and kept running. Eventually I turned around to come home. Streaked across the sky in a perfect arc was a pink line of plane exhaust, running just under the moon.

As I ran the moon eventually intersected the pink line, just like a ray through a point from 9th grade Geometry. Perfect intersection. Only if I stopped right there on the back streets of my village would the intersection stay complete, but I kept running, the line moving to the other side of the moon.

And God spoke to my mind.

It’s all about perspective. At only one point did I see the intersection, depending on where I stood (or ran) upon the earth. In order to gain the proper perspective, where God and I are intersected, I need to stop. Rest. Ponder. If I keep running, the intersection will never happen. Just as a line from one point continues on to eternity, never intersecting a random dot, the only way I can intersect my life with God is either stopping or changing my trajectory.

So maybe this time in my life is God telling me to stop. To rest. To consider. To reorient myself to His mysterious ways. Or maybe He just wanted to bless me with a pink line and the bright moon, and the knowledge of His presence on a crisp autumn morning in France.

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