The Simplicity of a Sunrise

t is a good day. I take a sip of my coffee, feeling it warm me up from the core. Although spring is surely on its way, the cool morning air reminds me that it hasn’t quite arrived. I cup my hands around my mug, the one I got in Ireland that reminds me of so many fun adventures, the heat from it radiates into my fingers. Yeah, this morning I am definitely thankful for heat. Leaning back against the railing, I slide my foot out from underneath me so now both feet are dangling over the ledge their reflection bouncing back at me. I glance subconsciously down at my phone. The picture of me and my closest friends sledding makes me smile. The time reads 7:05, the sun still has a good twenty minutes before it fully rises calling to life all the people in their houses reminding them it is a new work day. Man, life is good. My bible lays open to Psalm 116. Yes, the precious bible my dear friend Cierra gave me on Valentines Day, when I also gave her one. They serve as a reminder for us that God has changed our lives and that we must keep falling in love with Jesus. The one she inscribed with a heartfelt note ending in, “ this book is all about love, grace and redemption and it is a miraculous and truthful tale that will never grow old”. A small leaf wedged between the rocks gently swinging in the wind brings my attention back to the morning.

As the sun starts to rise the birds begin to transform from a shadow in the night to the beautiful creatures that they are, bathing in the sunlight happy to be alive. As comfortable as I am on the bridge, the porch swing to my left is beckoning me to come and sit for a minute, but that can wait for another day. This morning I am so overwhelmed by the peace and beauty of a simple sunrise. Yet something is stirring inside me, in the depths of my soul. I can’t quite place my fingers on it, yet somehow it just doesn’t seem fair, me sitting here surrounded by nothing but beauty and quiet. I feel as if I am the only one awake, as if I could do anything. I am overwhelmed, for the moment life has paused. All my worries seem to be slipping away. This moment is becoming more and more about Jesus. It begins to dawn on me, like a small crack in a castle of glass; it’s so easy to get caught up in day-to-day life and routine. To get caught up in worrying about my appearance, what people think of me, my weight, my job, and money. How silly it all sounds to me, as the sun makes me squint and the birds chirp. How vain to think life is about me, when clearly there is such a bigger picture a grandeur scheme.

I pick up my pen and the words begin to spill over the page. My heart seems to beat a little faster, yet time seems to freeze. Life isn’t about me. My thoughts are becoming words on a page, transforming into ink flowing across my journal. What was once an empty lifeless canvas is now overflowing with thoughts of grace and redemption, of Jesus dying on the cross taking his final breath. Thoughts of beauty intertwined with pain and suffering entangled with happiness. My pen slowly stops writing and I look up, the sunrise has transformed my surroundings, it is so beautiful and tantalizing. That’s when it hits me…how can I be missing the point so much? How has this life become about me and not lifting up the broken, restoring the broken hearted and in all that I do pointing glory to God? It is so quiet and peaceful as I begin to realize, I have been missing the point. How often have I become so caught up in my life, that I don’t notice the needs and longings of those around me? How can I walk down the street so oblivious to the young mom whose heart is breaking because she doesn’t feel loved and is worried about bringing her kid into a world with so much pain and suffering? How could I be so caught up in my own world to not even extend a hand of kindness, or even a simple pray for her? How could I look right past the homeless man carrying all he owns in one backpack, weighed down by thoughts of where he is going to sleep that night? How is it I didn’t take one minute or even spend fifteen dollars and get him some food? How have I sat by afraid to talk about Jesus with those who I love the most, watching as they ache to know true love but are always disappointed when they find their worth in the people around them? My thoughts are interrupted by the alarm on my phone, beckoning me back to reality. Calling me to work, reminding me that I have responsibilities.  The sun is now fully above me and I welcome the sunshine letting it warm me since my coffee has long since lost its warmth.

My final thought as I scoop up my journal and bible is that it is never to late to start; surely God can use me today if I am simply open to what He has for me. This life isn’t about me.

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