Do you recall when this song was revived and sung in churches around the early ’90s? With this new year, I feel Holy Spirit asking me to allow that song to reverberate in my soul. It’s a season to embrace the beauty of . . . all things . . . bright . . . and beautiful?


It’s a gift to endure with joy the learning curve, the growth stage, the not quite there yet phase. It’s a gift to witness with wonder the toddling babe, persistently striving to take care of himself while creating more mess for you. It’s . . . a gift . . . to celebrate socially distant holidays . . . or welcome in new public servants, both locally and nationally.


I feel Holy Spirit inviting me to look anew at the things I easily could grumble about to even the most remote stranger. It’s not hard to find something to be frustrated with or exhausted by . . . 

This past spring, when my son was learning to ride a bike without training wheels, I found joy only in the idea of achieving my goal (I can honestly say, it was my goal and not my son’s). 

I had been coaching our son. It sounded something like this, 


“Just try.”

“You won’t be able to do it unless you do it.”

“You have to jump on there!”


My coaching seemed to do anything but encourage him, so I gave him some space and started to continue on our trek. 


For a reason I can no longer recall, I was pushing my husband’s bike instead of riding my own. The seat was way too tall, yet the coach in me wondered what sort of example I was setting by keeping my own two feet safely on the ground. I did not feel comfortable jumping on that bike and going for it, but I wanted to show myself and my son that, 


“I can do it. So can you.” 


I ended up riding while standing and ultimately was able to sit on the edge of the seat and push the pedals with the tips of my toes. I even rode that bike up a hill despite my lack of preparation or properly fitted equipment. It wasn’t my son’s achievement I ultimately became content with - it was my own. Though I had and exercised the skill I wished for my son, my perspective shifted and I found something new to find joy and contentment in. 


May Jesus fill your heart with all things bright and beautiful in this new season, too. May Jesus breathe life into the weary places of your mind.


But you, LORD, are a shield around me, my glory, the One who lifts my head high. 

Psalm 3:3

All Things Bright and Beautiful
by Jennifer Lytle

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