The snow sifts gently down from the dark night sky.
Gone are the harsh cold winds
that drove the flakes against your cheek.
No sound except the whisper of falling snow.
Can a sound be silent?
Falling snow is.
A sound so silent, so heavy and gentle.
The silence of falling snow.
I am out in the falling snow.
The flakes landing too thickly for me to keep them brushed off my coat and head.
So I don’t try.
A friendly pine tree stands nearby,
enveloped in a beautiful white coat.
The snow even sticks to the Oak branches.
Piling several inches high,
And creating the most dramatic art work.
Sharp outlines are softened,
And everything takes on a gentler look
When covered by falling snow.
The thick cold blanket stretches as far as the eye can see,
Covering the rolling fields,
And obliterating country roads.
Driving becomes somewhat of a dangerous undertaking.
Millions and billions of times
Hundreds and thousands of snowflakes!
And each one of them different!
Many a skeptic would disagree.
Not for my GOD!
He can do whatever He pleases and nothing,
no one, can question Him.
He spoke this whole cosmos into existence!
So what are a few snowflakes?
The snow is so pure, so white
That even a white piece of paper looks dingy next to it.
Could it be possible?
That I can be as white as snow?!
GOD is a GOD of impossibilities.
To take me, a sinner,
As filthy and black as any dung heap,
And to cleanse me and make me as white as snow!
Only through the blood of His beloved Son.
“Impossible!” Once again the skeptics cry.
“Blood to wash away filth and make clean?”
An amazing, and precious paradox.
Blood to make us white,
And death that we might live!
Christ’s death, and our death with Him.
Death to the sin which had enslaved us,
Death to our former sinful self.
Beautiful life-giving death!
“Oh, precious is the flow that makes me white as snow!
No other fount I know, nothing but the blood of Jesus!”