Then the world dimmed and a chorus of wildlife roared into activity. Crickets, frogs, cicadas–all the singing creatures of the night snapped awake and sang.
They cut through the darkness with their music.
Moments later, the moon slipped right out of the sun’s path once again and normal resumed.
Back to normal light and normal shadows and normal colors.
And back to silence among the trees.
No more bullfrogs chanting nocturnal mating calls in the middle of a Monday afternoon. No more crickets chirping in chorus for three odd minutes.
Song over. For now.
Until later that night, of course, when these wild musicians would sing once again.
Maybe at some point I’ll forget some of the eclipse effects, like precisely how the shadows looked or exactly how the light altered.
But I’ll remember the singing in the dark.
That’s the example we need, after all, when the world grows dim and darkness presses in on us, how Jesus can give us a song to sing.
And we can lift up our voices to heaven in wild and raucous praise even when we can’t see the sun.