The first chapter of the Jesus Storybook Bible and the accompanying scripture readings for this first day of Advent (Psalm 19 and Hebrews 1) have me thinking about how — and where — God’s glory is revealed. Psalm 19:1 reads, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” And Hebrews 1:3 says, “The Son is the radiance of God’s glory….” Plus, I just drove a thousand miles across West Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona, a wide, wild landscape I love, so I can hear the words of singer/songwriter Andrew Peterson still in my head:
And the mountains sing Your glory hallelujah / The canyons echo sweet amazing grace / My spirit sails / The mighty gales are bellowing your name / And I’ve got nothing to say / No, I’ve got nothing to say
(That’s just the chorus; the rest of the song is more than worth a listen. “Nothing to Say” by Andrew Peterson)
Psalm 19:1 is a no brainer for me, and Andrew Peterson’s lyrics ring true to my own experience. The heavens — and the ancient canyons, and the swirling seas, and the towering redwoods, and the wind-whispering grasslands — absolutely declare the glory of God. If you asked me where I go to see, experience, and be awestruck by God’s glory, my answer would always be nature. Someplace in God’s magnificent world where I am rendered speechless.
But the season of Advent and Hebrews 1:3 are pointing me toward Jesus, the Son who “is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being.” Jesus, both the baby and the crucified Savior, who just glows with the glory of God, radiant with His light. And if He, too — not just breathtakingly big skies and majestic mountains — declares the glory of God, then now I’m looking for glory in simpler, smaller things. Like the washing of feet, and breaking of bread. A carpenter’s callused hands wiping blindness from a beggar’s eyes. A renowned Rabbi lifting a lowly child on his lap and a leper from the roadside ditch.
And if that’s where glory lies, here on earth as much as in heaven, then I’m thinking now of cold hands gripping drill handles at yesterday’s 5th Sunday of Service, building a ramp for a neighbor none of us knew, except for his need.
Maybe that, too, sings God’s glory hallelujah.