A Redhawk, God’s Splendor, and the Call of Advent

The Little Miami Bike Trail

Yesterday, while walking with my son-in-law Gabe along the river, we saw a Redhawk gliding effortlessly over the river. Its wings stretched wide, carried by unseen currents, moving back and forth with a rhythm both serene and commanding. For a brief moment, I hoped it would swoop down into the water, like a Stuka diver bomber to capture its prey. But it simply soared. I stopped mid-step, captivated. In that moment, I wasn’t thinking about time or tasks—I was simply there, struck by a beauty that seemed both beyond my understanding and mysteriously close.

Later that day, a line from Thomas Dubay’s The Evidential Power of Beauty struck me—“We wounded humans have trouble handling prodigious splendors.” The hawk’s flight was indeed a “prodigious splendor”—a glimpse of God’s majesty breaking into the ordinary. But why was it as unsettling as it was beautiful? Why do moments like these stop us in our tracks, and yet so often we fail to notice them at all? Every day, we are surrounded by the beauty of creation, the gift of life, and the nearness of God, yet our hearts are often blind and distracted. Only in unexpected pauses like this does the veil lift slightly. Why is it so hard to see?

The prophet Isaiah provides an answer: “Your iniquities have made a separation between you and your God, and your sins have hidden his face from you” (Isaiah 59:2). Sin blinds us to the presence of God, veiling His splendor and quieting the gentle call of His love. It is not that God withdraws—His glory surrounds us always—but our woundedness makes us unable to perceive and receive Him rightly. Like Peter falling at Jesus’ feet after the miraculous catch of fish, we are confronted by the gap between our sinfulness and His holiness: “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord” (Luke 5:8). God’s light does not merely console; it reveals, illuminating the wounds and disordered loves we would rather hide.

This tension between God’s majesty and our frailty defines much of the Christian life. On one hand, we are drawn to His beauty and long for His love. On the other, we hesitate, paralyzed by our unworthiness. Advent, in particular, brings this tension into focus. It is a season of waiting—not merely for the celebration of Christmas but for the healing and restoration Christ comes to bring. Advent invites us to hold together two profound truths: our sinfulness and God’s relentless love. It is a time to face our blindness honestly while leaning into the promise of Emmanuel—“God with us.”

The Christ child comes not to overwhelm us with His glory but to draw near in humility, tenderness, and love. His majesty is veiled in simplicity: born in a stable, wrapped in swaddling clothes, carried in the arms of His mother. This is the paradox of grace: God bridges the separation we cannot cross. In Jesus, the infinite majesty of God becomes approachable, inviting us into communion rather than pushing us away.

Advent: A Time for Healing and Hope

Advent is a season of active waiting—a time for renewal, reflection, and readiness.

Recognizing Our Need for Redemption

Sin creates distance from God by distorting our hearts, but Advent calls us to face this reality with hope, not despair. Like Peter before Jesus, we are invited to bring our unworthiness to Him, trusting in His mercy. Repentance clears the path for the coming King. Through heartfelt confession, reconciliation, or small acts of conversion, we can say, “Lord, heal what sin has broken in me.”

Welcoming the Gift of His Presence

Jesus comes humbly, sanctifying the ordinary and inviting us into His love. Advent challenges us to prepare our hearts through prayer, silence, and acts of love. Even brief moments of daily reflection can help us recognize God’s nearness. Like Mary, let us ponder His presence and allow it to take root in us.

Living as Witnesses to His Light

Advent proclaims that sin’s separation is not the final word. Christ comes to restore what is lost and bring us into communion with the Father. This hope compels us to reflect His light, showing compassion and sharing the joy of His coming with those in need. In a darkened world, we are called to witness that God’s light shines, and the darkness cannot overcome it (John 1:5).

The Beauty of the Wait

The soaring flight of the Redhawk was a quiet reminder that God’s majesty surrounds us, even when we fail to notice. This Advent, let us prepare our hearts for Christ, who comes not to overpower but to invite us into His love.

Pray simply: “Lord, I wait for You, not in fear, but in trust. Heal my wounded heart and prepare me to receive Your glory.” In the stillness of our waiting, God is drawing near. May we open our hearts to welcome Him.

By the way, I highly recommend the book by Thomas Dubay—The Evidential Power of Beauty.

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