This time of year in the South there are still leaves of color all around us and the effect is magical. No matter how busy we are, there's something arresting about the early November brilliance. A small start spreads rapidly until all the world is flaming. It's an exciting time as everything that has been previously sown comes to bountiful harvest. It quickens a thanksgiving response to the splendor and beauty of God's re-creation and redemption at work in our midst--within and without--past, present, and future.

"He who offers a sacrifice of thanksgiving honors Me."-Psm. 50:23a (NASB)

     This time of year in the South there are still leaves of color all around us and the effect is magical. No matter how busy we are, there's something arresting about the early November brilliance. A small start spreads rapidly until all the world is flaming.  It's an exciting time as everything that has been previously sown comes to bountiful harvest. It quickens a thanksgiving response to the splendor and beauty of God's re-creation and redemption at work in our midst--within and without--past, present, and future.

     As I drove to church earlier this fall, a shaft of sunlight sliced through morning mist and highlighted a select branch of foliage just coming to autumn color. It was a sweet preview of the magnificence all the leaves around it would soon know.

     That's when it hit me. The leaves that turn first are usually the ones positioned to encounter the light.  No obstacles, nothing standing in the way.  It changes them, ripens them and then they're gone, clearing the way for the leaves underneath to come to the light, change, and also pass away.  Eventually the light spreads to the whole tree, and those behind it who may have been in a greater shade.