by Elisabeth Allen
The words beckons me … beyond. Beyond this moment in its grit and glory. Beyond the hopes on the horizon. Beyond the fears too.
Beyond are the stars in the vastness of the night sky. Beyond, the opposite extreme of beyond, is the perfection of a scarlet pimpernel nestled into the leaves and grasses at the side of a path. It’s all beyond anything I can create … or could create in a million years. It’s beyond anything I could imagine! And yet, for God, it’s within – within His ability as a Creator. Within His ability as a Dreamer of Dreams.
What else is beyond? My life, which sometimes makes no sense here and now, perhaps. Is that beyond my comprehension today? It is, surely, within the grace of the One who created stars above and flowers below. Within the grace of the One who imagined and spoke into being the reality of everything I see and love and hope and can’t put into words because it’s all beyond words.