Life can be sublime. Last night's central-North-Carolinian sunset is an example. The blue sky richened, the clouds grew pink. I sat down on the porch with my daughter and watched the waxing moon shine brightly through ethereal pinkness, framed in the golden leaves of a pecan tree, and we sang a Night Song: We praised the beauty of the evening. We thanked its Creator.
It was a perfect evening. And I wanted to drink it in. I wanted to become intoxicated with its beauty. I wanted to reach into its expanse, embrace sublimity, and somehow draw it back into my being, let it saturate and re-create my soul. I wanted to be baptized in it.