My demons sit and whisper and ponder of ways to strip away beauty. To bind me in chains and throw me into the abyss. That is their plot.
The colorful spectrum of beauty that shines from Gods glory is stripped away to shades of grey.
Grey as my surroundings in night. As the Son leaves, so does color. Yes, Son as in my Jesus, and yes, sun as in that which warms our earth, both one in concept and purpose-to bring light and understanding, and without, darkness and shades of grey. The color of my demons.
They see God painting my portrait in pastels of heavenly colors. They come with their buckets of grey and the splash that they create turns Gods creation into a sordid mess. What a mess. Gods faithful dedication to composing my beauty is wasted, it seems. The painting is still there, but now it is covered in grey. The color of my demons.
I sit amongst the pines and wild flowers. Admiring Gods natural creation that man has yet to dominate. The sounds. The smells. The textures. And most of all, the colors. My senses delight in all that God gives. As night falls, the colors fade. Now the blues, the greens, the pinks, and yellows are all shades of grey. What can have the power to strip a flower of its bright pastels? What can have the power to cause the flower to fade into nothingness of the landscape, into shades of grey?
The departure of the Son takes beauty with it.
Oh, but think of the morning. As the demons dance in the absence of light they are struck with their adversary. The Son breaks over the horizon and the flowers and the trees awaken with the color they bear, and moment-by-moment they show off their beauty, as the Son grows stronger in the sky. Higher and higher he bears his strength and the land below erupts in an orchestra of colorful harmonies. The demons are gone. The shades of grey are gone.
In the morning I am glad. It means that I have the Son to guide me. The Son draws out my beauty more than anything else can. My heart despairs when the day is overcast because I cannot see the Son, and my colors are not as bright. But I know the Son is there, higher than the clouds that overshadow me. The Son is greater than the clouds, and I am reassured to know that the clouds will never consume the glorious Son.
But then comes night. The Son seems distant and gone. Of course the Son is still there, shining in the lives of other people. Their Sonshine times seem like half a world away compared to my night when my shades of grey appear. A little bit of light of the Son reflects off of the moon, so I know that the Son is still there. Some nights the reflection off of the moon is strong, and I can see some color amongst the grey. But usually I feel alone with my demons. No Son to guide me in my shades of grey.
But hope is still there. For I can still see the moon. If the moon shines, then my Son is still there. Clouds may cover my moon, but I know the moon is still there, higher than the clouds that add to my shades of grey. The moon is greater than the clouds, and I am reassured to know that in a little while, the color of my demons will fade into the orchestra of my God. The colors of the Son will overcome the color of my demons.
Your demons will whisper and plot against you. But rest assured that the Son brings heavenly colors, and that your shades of grey will not last forever. Look to the skies for my Son. For where the Son is, shades of grey are gone.