It’s easy for me to get depressed about the state of things in this fallen world. Everywhere I look, there’s ugliness, ignorance and hatred. Those things are very real. But if all we see is the squalor in the world, we’re missing the love and beauty that were put all around us to experience. They’re very real, too.
I’ve seen evidence of the very bad and the very good this week, and I’m constantly trying to reconcile the two. It seems that the more you feel one of the extremes, the more you’re capable of experiencing the other extreme.
From talking to others, I suspect that I experience both extremes more strongly than most. The things that hurt me don’t just disappoint. They wound something really deeply, even if it’s something that wouldn’t affect others. I’ve never liked that about myself, but I suspect that if I didn’t feel so deeply about the hurtful things, I wouldn’t feel the beautiful things so strongly.
I started thinking about this Friday night as I drove west on I-20 in Birmingham just barely after sunset. I came over the top of a hill and suddenly had a vast open space ahead of me with hills in the distance. The fading sunset was a pinkish orange hanging just above the black of the hill contours.
It was breathtaking to me. It wasn’t just beautiful. It was something that touched me emotionally. For that moment, all the ugliness of the world was gone. All the problems of daily life were gone. I felt content, at peace and as though I was experiencing something God put in front of me — just for me.

‘Make no little plans. They have no magic to stir men’s blood… Make big plans’
What if I’ve fooled myself — and darkness is all that waits for me?
Goodbye, William (1999-2015)
Life is too short to hide the love you would regret hiding at death
I can change my appearance, but my inner self will stay the same
Thirst for love and understanding drives all of us until it’s quenched
China’s one-child policy: Unintended consequences on a grand scale
The hole is always there, but I foolishly hope it’ll just go away
It’s a very old cliche, but it’s true: Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt