Thursday, February 24

Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend

Read Psalm 19

I own exactly one diamond. It perches atop a twisted white gold band in regal princess cut splendor. I’ve seen bigger and bolder presentations. But the fist time I saw this particular one, it took my breath away.

It was offered along with the heart of the man who already had mine. The offering was humble extravagance, and oh! How it sparkled! I accepted his ring and his heart and every time sunlight dances across its surface, I am reminded of the impractical, crazy love my husband has for me.

It has become a fixation on my finger. I wash dishes, teach reading, math and science, grocery shop and fold laundry without thinking about the gem until the stone catches the light just right or I need to remember which way is left. Often though, it goes unnoticed.

There was a church in Central America. A simple, unassuming hut of a building situated in a poverty stricken town. The pastor believed God, and he prayed. He prayed for the people of his village. He prayed for God to move in the lives of his congregation. He would get carried away sometimes and pray all night long. Seeking the face and the heart of Father God. God did not speak. God gave.

It was emeralds at first. Then sapphires, rubies and diamonds. They appeared, perfectly cut, big and small in every color of the rainbow. A few at a time, or many at once the pastor found them under chairs, on the floor, stuck in the rafters…

He wondered where they were from. Had someone dropped them? What was happening? The pastor prayed and the jewels appeared. A miracle? He claimed it was.

But why jewels? Aren’t jewels an absurd extravagance in a town so poor fresh water was hard to come by? Certainly God can work any way he would like, but the impracticality of jewels seems so unlikely. Surely they were fakes. Or planted. Or the pastor was just plane nuts-o.

A jewel appraiser analyzed the treasure. Perfect, he declared them. Literally priceless because nothing of such perfection in either cut or color existed to compare them to. To the population of a tiny town south of the border, priceless also means worthless. The stones, essentially un-saleable did not have the slightest effect on the economy of the town.

Except the people prayed. They began to join their pastor on their knees. People were healed. Lost were found. Lives were restored and precious jewels continued to appear. Random, dazzling beauty in a place with no use for such things.

God is a giver of good gifts.

I spent a few days staring out across a lake this past weekend. The sun danced across black water turning the lake surface into a million dazzling diamonds. Right there in the middle of an ordinary day, the extravagant gift of breathtaking beauty. So bright, I tried to look away at first, but as the diamonds danced, I let my breath be stolen by beauty. He gave me jewels.

In the quiet of the night, I walked from point A to point B. I didn’t expect my knees to weaken at the sight of a million more diamonds twinkling against a black velvet sky. I was arrested by the gift of this shimmering vastness between destinations. He gave me jewels.

God is a giver of good gifts.

My husband will love me as long as we both shall live. The diamond ring on my finger is the symbol of that vow. I delight in that knowledge. My God loved me so much that he sent his one and only Son to die for me. His world is a symbol of that love. Sparkling water, twinkling stars, laughing children, falling in love…

God is a giver of good gifts.

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