As the title conveniently shows, the following lines refer to reading scripture. They demonstrate the great “bursting forth” of spiritual affections that took place last year and hopefully paint a picture of new found delight in something that was once glanced at, repeatedly, in a cold or dutiful fashion. Something familiar and regular became fresh and exciting. And something that once was viewed from afar became a daily indulgence.
Because of Christ, his supernatural work, 2 Corinthians 5:17 (Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.) thunders true out of this paragraph. Thomas Chalmers, in his essay The Expulsive Power of a New Affection, speaks to such and event as this––the coming of a new affection. He comments on an occasion in which one affection, one taste, gives way to another. This is precisely what the following paragraph envelopes, it is the coming of a new affection, of a new taste, and of a new spiritual appetite.
Imagine with me for moment, that you have stolen away back through the woods to that small lake. In fact, it is so small you might just call it a pond if you happened to see it on a map, yet, it is so un-pond like I can’t dare call it so. It’s so brilliantly clear and deeper than, well, I don’t know what it’s deeper than to be honest. But it’s cold, refreshingly so–– as I imagined it would be. Because admittedly I spent afternoons and mornings walking around it, exploring it, or just sitting on the edge and pondering it as it reflected those yellowing birch leaves as I shrinked into my sweatshirt sleeves. For truthfully, it was cold at times. I did this for years without a single time taking my shoes off and getting in––what nonsense. But now as I stand looking back at this, seeing my folly, I cannot help but to plead with others to be taken in as well. Now I dive and dive deep, walking back home daily with leaves stuck to my feet and chattering teeth. I sink so incredibly deep most of the days, and I’ve come to see when I don’t sink quite so far it is because of my own flailing. I’ll slip ever so quickly until I see only dim rays of sunlight coming from the surface, if the sun happened to be shining. Yet, when I gaze further down, there is always a greater light radiating from within.