Sunrise

I awoke this morning in the silent dark, that quiet time where the birds and the winds are still, the stars are beginning to fade, and the moon has long since sought its rest.  I moved like a ghost through my house, taking great care not to wake my wife or my daughter.  The routine is the same as always: drift by the coffee pot and start it on its way; stumble to the laundry to knock the wrinkles out of my clothes and then to the bathroom to let out our dog who, if left to roam in the evening, will viciously sound the approach of every wandering breeze.  Then it’s a quick return to the coffee pot to pour a cup of liquid warmth that allows me to begin the business of the day.  This morning, however, Papa has a gift, handcrafted just for me, greeting me through my small kitchen window. 

The fog lays thick between the trees that border our backyard; the warmth of the coming sun met by the coolness of the lingering night.  As I stand, peering drowsily out my window, coffee in hand, there is an almost imperceptible lightening in the trees that causes the blanket of mist to shine.  Then, deep within the thick stand of trees, colors start to emerge from the blackness:  first, the darkest of blues, then purples and reds and oranges and colors in between that only God can name.  Finally, the sun itself breaks the line of the horizon and beams through the trees - the silent dark retreating before calm advance of the sun’s golden light.  As my eyes adjust, painfully, to this new light, I am reminded once again of how often the Creator chooses to reveal himself through his creation, and I am immediately put in mind of a scripture from 2 Peter. 

In the New Living Translation of the Bible, 2 Peter 1:19 says, “Because of that experience, we have even greater confidence in the message proclaimed by the prophets. You must pay close attention to what they wrote, for their words are like a lamp shining in a dark place—until the Day dawns, and Christ the Morning Star shines in your hearts.”  In the revealing light of morning, this scripture stretches and blooms revealing layers of color that I had never before seen.  Suddenly, my walk with Christ is revealed differently, and the process that is my growth as a Christian makes even more sense.

I can recall when the light of the gospel first reached me, shining through the fog of pain and hurt into a life that, at times, has been darker than I care to admit.  It began, as dawn did in the woods behind my home, as an almost imperceptible lightening, then as piercing ray, painful even, to eyes that had never known true light.  Then it began to spread, expanding to encompass more and more of my little “postage stamp corner of the world.”  And in my life, the dawn continues.  As I grow closer to Christ, the strength of the light in my life grows and pushes the darkness of sin and doubt further and further away.  The process is never easy, and is often times painful, as the light stretches into those darker places, those forgotten (ignored) areas in my life, forcing me to acknowledge, and then deal with, those issues that have been in shadow for far too long.  Slowly, like a fog-shrouded sunrise, Christ begins to shine more completely in my heart, and though I am certain that I am often the cause of parental sighs of divine disappointment, I know that the same God who graced me with this sunrise and who placed me lovingly on this path will “keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears.”^{1}

{1} Php 1:6, The Message