I remember the night, last October, when the skies above gave us a special treat. The sky had a purple hue… then shades of pink, blue, and green streaked across the black, starry canvas of the October sky. It was beautiful.

I stood there, looking up at what felt like a gift. A rare, shimmering gift spread across the heavens — here, in West Virginia. The Aurora Borealis, the kind of thing we hear about happening elsewhere, in far northern places. And yet, there it was… here.

I grabbed my phone and took pictures — lots of them. Over 80, actually. I recorded videos. I ran around the yard trying to find the best vantage point, desperate not to miss a single moment. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to look away. There was a quiet ache beneath the joy — a small fear that if I blinked too long, the beauty would fade.

And of course, when the night quieted and the lights finally began to dim, I did what we all do: I posted the pictures. I wanted to share the wonder.

What the Eye Could Not See

Here’s the funny thing — my eyes saw the color faintly, soft brushstrokes on the dark night sky. But when I looked through my phone, the color exploded. Purples and greens danced boldly. Colors the eye could not capture in fullness became radiant through my camera lens.

The phone didn’t invent the beauty. It revealed it. The light was already there — I just couldn’t see it clearly.

That thought caught my breath for a moment. So often, God’s glory, love, and grace are like that, too. Present. Real. Glorious. But my eyes — limited on earth side of heaven— catch only a glimpse, a faint hue of what He’s doing.

“For Now We See in a Mirror Dimly…”

There’s a verse near the end of a popular chapter of scripture that worked in my heart and mind for a long time, and this, with the night sky painted it in color, brought it to life:

“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.” — 1 Corinthians 13:12 (ESV)

1 Corinthians 13, commonly referred to as the “love chapter,” speaks of true love: purposeful, powerful, and perfect love. A love that 1 John 4 tells us was exemplified in Christ’s redemption through His sacrifice for us. A love so great, Paul prays in Ephesians 3 that we would somehow come to know how BIG God’s love for us really is.

Jesus demonstrated His love for us. Scripture tells us of the greatness of God’s love for us. But this side of heaven, we still only see it in part. And I cannot imagine how incredible God’s love truly is… if what I know now is only a part!

Just like the faint northern lights overhead, we live in this in-between — seeing in part. Faith doesn’t mean we see the whole picture. It means we trust that the beauty and fullness are there, even when it’s dim.

The Beauty of Glimpses

That night in October, I wanted to capture every angle, soak in every bit of the beauty, and capture the wonder of the moment in pictures. Not to make the moment bigger, but to not forget what I saw. There was something sacred about the glimpse. It made me long for more.

Faith works that way, too. God gives us glimpses — in moments of worship, in creation, in a whispered answer to prayer, in the quiet assurance of His presence, the depths of His love. These glimpses are real. But they are not the whole. They stir a spiritual hunger, a desire for the day when we will see fully.

Witnessing What We’ve Seen

Later, when I shared the photos, people commented in awe:
“I can’t believe that was over our sky!”
“I didn’t see it but this is incredible!”
“God’s creation in nature is truly amazing!!”

Isn’t that what testimony does, too? We share the glimpses we’ve seen. We bear witness to the beauty of God who is here and at work in us — even if others haven’t caught a glimpse with their own eyes. Like the camera on my phone, our stories help others see what’s been there all along.

One Day, Full Sight of Full Light

The aurora faded as the night wore on. But the memory remains. And the promise of scripture whispers still: One day, we won’t just catch a glimpse. We’ll see the full light with full sight. Not faint streaks of light in a dark sky — but face to face with the One whose glory no camera can capture.

“Now we see in part… but then we shall see fully.”

As gorgeous as our experience of the Aurora Borealis was that night, I also knew one thing: this pales in comparison to the full experience of the Northern Lights.

and I can’t even imagine what that would be like to experience them in full view, no phone needed to accentuate what my eyes alone couldn’t see…

Just full beauty.

1 Corinthians 13:12 says: “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.”

Can you imagine? What I know of the truth of God’s love, of His full character, humbles me while it fills me beyond measure. I cannot imagine what it will mean to see that truth in God’s full glory!

The light is real. The glory is coming.

What do you see?

Where are you catching glimpses of God’s glory in your life right now? How might those glimpses stir in you a deeper hope for the day when you will see Him face to face?

~Jillene