When we lived in the Bush, we lived on a small Lake we called Paradise. It still does not have an official name on the topographical maps, but our house and outbuildings are clearly visible. It was living out there that I learned that, as the song says, Heaven and Nature Sing. Nor is it outside the realm of possibility that the stones would cry out in praise, as described in Luke 19.
In the winter, it got cold, really cold, for long periods of time; -20 for several days was common. It must have been late in the season because I remember sitting in a snowbank like it was a recliner, just staring in awe.
The Aurora, the Northern Lights were out.
They were gliding across the inky black sky in shimmering greens, reds, and blues. Swirling around, first one way, then another in a beautiful waltz. The Lights were the brightest, most vivid display I had seen until that time or since. The colors! Green would flash to white, the red would suddenly be magenta, and blue was ribboned around Aurora as she danced in the night.
What made this performance truly remarkable was that we could hear the song of the Aurora as she danced across the sky. We could hear hissing and popping as it kept time with the Lights, sometimes so soft it was barely audible, other times very clear, but never loud. It was not exactly static electricity or the radio being almost tuned, but that is the closest I can come to describing the music of the night sky.
A more common song was sung by the lake in early winter, just after freeze-up. As the ice grew thicker and deeper, it would expand and icy fissures would explode onto the surface of the lake. The music would sound like the deep rumble of a guitar string humming across the surface of the lake. During break-up, the wind would push the rotten ice to and fro, and the tinkling of the ice sounded like God's wind chimes.
As I contemplate Holy Week, what this week means to me, and indeed to all of history, I am reminded that Luke 19:40 tells us that if the people stop praising God, the stones that lined the path would shout, cry out, and cheer with praise. God created us to praise and worship Him. If we stop, other parts of His creation will take over the praise. Listen to the music God created. It is in the babbling brook, the roaring ocean, and the breeze through the leaves.
I will praise you with music; I will praise You with voice and instrument.
Thank You for reminding us that all of creation will sing Your praises.
As we remember this, the Holiest week in history,
may we never stop Praising You.
This week ends with Your death for my sins.
I praise You and Thank You for my salvation.
In Jesus' name, I pray, Amen.