The Beauty of the Bending of Light

One magical morning, it began to snow outside. Matter of fact, so much snow had accumulated outside my front door that I couldn’t leave my home. But strangely enough, it hadn’t snowed anywhere else in town. So reluctantly I remained indoors. But what happened next absolutely amazed me: as I turned on the lights to my Christmas tree, a world of mathematical equations appeared on the walls inside my cozy cottage.

As we know, light bends as it passes through substances of different densities. And, in this case, light passed through the glass ornaments on the tree and projected a symphony of numbers that held hands and danced all around me. The other miracle that I beheld was that I understood their structure and meaning, as well as how to solve them. As I thought about the possibilities available to me with such prodigious knowledge, I grew excited like a child on Christmas morning. But why now? And why was this happening to me? Was God playing some kind of cruel joke on some otherwise known simpleton like me? Or was God’s favor shining on me this Christmas morn? Or was I imagining all of this?

I decided to trace the Greek letters and numbers on the walls just as they appeared. That way, if this analytic apparition of Christmas is gone tomorrow, I’ll still have some tangible proof that it was here smiling on me. So I did just that. It took me nearly the entire day. And it wasn’t just the writing but the pondering that turned minutes into hours.

Then I lay in bed with my arms folded into large Xs behind my head and marvelled at the beauty before me. O how the math problems on logs of horizontal pine seemed to take on their own personalities. Some appeared more fun, while others more serious. But nothing seemed overwhelming. I even talked to them as if they were my friends. A world of wonder was at my fingertips for my enjoyment.

I tried not to waste a single second thinking of anything else. I wouldn’t let myself go to sleep, although, my eyelids grew heavy and my yawns grew closer together.

Finally, sleep lulled me in her arms.

The next morning I awoke smiling–remembering everything that happened on Jesus’s birthday as I gave glory to God for His universal language of love manifested in numbers. But as soon as I opened my eyes, my friends were gone. My sketches of them had disappeared. “Maybe I need to turn on my Christmas tree,” I thought to myself. But the lights that passed through the glass ornaments transforming into numbers failed to obey my ardent desire for them to stay. The other bizarre thing that I noticed was that the snow outside my door had completely vanished along with the magical feeling of being visited by an angel.

Once again, I lay back down on my bed. But this time with sad eyes and a broken heart–sad because I felt God had forgotten about me and broken because I went back to being my normal self. During my time of self-flagellation, I fell into a trance, not a dream mind you–I remained awake as God spoke to me. It was the strangest experience. I was riding my bicycle through the forest, while the birds and the trees and the rest of the forest animals were speaking to me. I could understand them and they could understand me. They were all saying the same thing: “Do not call ordinary what God has made special.” Suddenly, I was aware of my surroundings again.

I threw on my clothes, shoes, scarf and beanie, and walked into town. Driven by desire, I greeted people that I’ve known my whole life as if they were strangers whom I deeply cared for. I felt alive for the first time in a very long time. At that moment, it hit me! Just as the light passed through the glass and spoke to me in beautiful mathematical prose, God’s light was passing through me to speak to those around me. It wasn’t the magic that I was supposed to hang onto, but the experience of being in God’s presence and in the presence of those around me.

122119

 

 

 

Chester Delagneau


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Meet Chester

Subscribe

Receive the latest blog posts and newsletters from Chester

Archives