Where It's Warm

Lately I have been looking forward to the coming autumn and winter. One reason is of course that I will finally be at home and surrounded by those I love the most. Besides that though, I love autumn and winter the most in themselves. The frigid cold weather always awakens a need to go where it is warm. It is warm inside your home with your friends and family. It is warm when you eat together and talk together and sing together. It is warm when you crawl into bed after such evenings and feel cozy with your sheets wrapped around you and the voices of your friends and family still ringing softly in your ears. And the colder it is, the more you appreciate and love the warmth that these things bring.

I was thinking how this is the same with my experience spiritually all year round. The coldness of the world surrounds me and chills me, trying its best to numb me of all feeling. I begin to lose sight of my sin and to forget altogether the warmth of the peace and joy that I have when I am close with my Savior. I must go inside where it's warm, that is, in my heart with Christ. As he comes alive there, He fills me and warms my whole being. And the colder it gets, the more I appreciate and love my time spent with him. This is why I love the autumn and the winter. A desire is awakened to seek the warmth of Christ in everything. I want the house in the picture above to be a picture of my heart, filled with warmth and light amidst the ice and snow of the world. I want it to be a place of rest and prayer where others are drawn to come and find the love of Christ dwelling there.

I think of Maltbie Babcock who would tell people before his long walks that he was going to see his Father's world. He wrote one of my favorite hymns that has been in my head lately. Its' powerful tune and lyrics have been providing such warmth to my heart and have been sending me inside my heart to spend time with my Savior. I always imagine this hymn being played on a piano in a warm living room with snow falling outside.

This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father’s world. O let me ne’er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father’s world: the battle is not done:
Jesus Who died shall be satisfied,
And earth and Heav’n be one.