sunrise

It happens every morning. I’m sure it does; I just don’t see it often.

Missed opportunities. They used to haunt me. Really. I’d try to get to every music concert, every church meeting, every coffee get-together—you name it; if it was happening and I could be present, I was there.

Driven by guilt. And maybe a little bit of obsession.

Perhaps, I should finish the first thought before I get on my little soapbox, huh? I’ll do that.

The shadow stood at my bedside in the dark room this morning. 7:05, the clock read. 7:05!

The shadow spoke.

“The sunrise is spectacular this morning!”

Other than a quick hug and a mumbled “goodbye, I love you,” that was it. I was alone on the queen-size bed in the darkness. Back to sleep. Life goes on as usual.

That’s not what happened. I rolled over, hugging her pillow close. But, I didn’t go back to sleep.

Sunrise! It happens every morning; so what’s the big deal? Sleep is better—especially when my head didn’t hit the pillow until 2:30 this morning.

The thoughts ran through my non-sleeping brain.

I got up.

A few minutes later, I was standing at the upstairs window, looking out over the rooftops in the neighborhood.

Wow! This happens every day?

Every day?

“Awake, O sleeper,
rise up from the dead,
and Christ will give you light.”

I snapped a photo or two to save the moment in my memory. I sent one of them to the Lovely Lady. Some things need to be shared.

She sent me back a photo of the gecko under her desk this morning. I guess she felt that some things need to be shared, too.

But, I’m wondering about the bigger picture now. What about all the other things I’m missing out on? While I’m sleeping. And when I’m awake, too.

I remember when my oldest grandson was an infant and he refused to go to sleep in his crib. My son-in-law introduced me to the term we’ve all become familiar with as he described the phenomenon.

“FOMO. He’s afraid we’re going to do something while he’s asleep and he can’t stand to not be part of it.”

Fear of missing out.

We laughed. We still do.

But, it’s true. We want to be included in whatever’s happening. And sometimes, we feel guilty when we don’t participate in all of it.

Why are we so driven by that guilt?

I want to blame my church upbringing, citing those verses in Ephesians I heard so often growing up.

So be careful how you live. Don’t live like fools, but like those who are wise. Make the most of every opportunity in these evil days. Don’t act thoughtlessly, but understand what the Lord wants you to do.
(Ephesians 5:15-17, NLT)

I want to blame my guilt on that. But, words are just words until we understand them. The Word of God is the same. His Spirit gives clarity as we study them and then live them out.

Yes, we make the most of every opportunity. But we don’t act thoughtlessly.

Trying to be involved in every good activity is acting thoughtlessly. And, being consumed by guilt when we don’t show up for all of them is harmful. To us and others around us.

I’m going to miss out on a few sunrises. And, concerts. And, coffee breaks.

But occasionally, I’m going to stumble out of bed, climbing the wooden stairs in my bare feet to stand at the window in awe and gratitude for another day and a beautiful re-creation of the dawn.

Just, maybe not tomorrow morning.

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 by Eleanor Farjeon, 1931)

The insistent tone of my smart-phone’s alarm clock pierced the fog of sleep this morning. My eyes fluttered open reluctantly.

Still dark.

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.

Still dark.

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.

It was anything but dark! The brilliance of the sunrise had me standing there blinking in its light.

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.

In the dark, we do what is required of us. Click To Tweet

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.

Still dark.

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.

While He keeps His promises, I will keep mine. Click To Tweet

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.

Shouldn’t we?

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)

He's Taken Leave

Random wanderings with Paul Phillips

Missed Opportunities

Waiting for Dawn