The insistent tone of my smart-phone’s alarm clock pierced the fog of sleep this morning. My eyes fluttered open reluctantly.
I would have lain there and slept longer, but the alarm was only increasing in volume. It does that, you know. It gets louder.
I stood and, stumbling to the window sill where the offensive device awaited, touched the screen. As it finally relented, I breathed a sleepy sigh of relief.
Over the tops of the blinds, I gazed out to the eastern horizon. It was supposed to be daylight! Where was the sun?
I waited—and watched. There was a hint of light near the ground, but it did the world no good.
For all my waiting, the world was still in shadow.
I glanced down at the clock. Wow! I had to get moving!
Dressing quickly and going through my morning ritual, I forgot about the darkness outside. Well, I didn’t forget; I just ignored it.
Funny. I knew what was going to happen. Still, when I stepped out the back door to face the eastern sky again, it caught me by surprise.
Sunrise comes by itself. While I do the thing needed, its light explodes over the horizon in hues of fiery red and brilliant yellow and eye-popping orange.
While I do the thing needed.
In the dark, we do what is required of us.
I will admit that it feels as if I’ve been laboring in the dark for some time now. To my dismay, it seems very much as if night has taken hold and is determined to maintain its grip on my world without ever letting go.
Nothing I do has made the night around me less dark.
I have prayed.
I have sung at the top of my lungs.
I have sat and cried.
I have raged.
Finally, it occurs to me. There is work to be done. The journey still lies ahead. Yes, even in the dark.
I remember that the Creator—the One who makes the sun to rise on the righteous and unrighteous—is still up to the task. (Matthew 5:45)
I will do the thing needed.
While He keeps His promises, I will keep mine.
Daylight will come. It will. With or without us, it will come.
We know it in our hearts.
We should be up and doing while we wait.
Morning has broken, like the first morning.
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird.
Praise for the singing; Praise for the morning;-
Praise for them springing fresh from the Word.
(from Morning has Broken ~ Eleanor Farjeon ~ English poet ~ 1881-1965)
But for you who fear My name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings; and you will go forth and skip about like calves from the stall.
(Malachi 4:2 ~ NASB)
© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2016. All Rights Reserved.