The Sun Always Rises
I was sitting on the bus one morning, struggling with something (I don't
really remember what now) and looking out the window when suddenly it hit me
how eerie the trees looked. It was raining and the window was covered in
condensation and water droplets, making the world outside one of shadows and distorted,
unrecognizable shapes.
The only thing that could pierce through the water droplets were pinpoints of light from the streetlamps and headlights as we drove down the street and even those were a bit fuzzy. But still, they remained a stark contrast to the dark background of the world around them.
That is the light, I realized. You see, the limits of our mortality are like the film on the window; they keep us from truly seeing the world just beyond our own. Many of the plans God has look terrifying or intimidating because they have been distorted by this lens. But all around tiny pinpricks of light pierce through, proudly declaring that the world beyond is just as real.
Why do you only give us these tiny points of light, God? I wondered. The rest looks so scary and daunting.
Then it hit me. As I went about my morning bus ride, lost in my own thought, the world outside was not frozen. Bit by bit, as time inched forward, the sun was pushing over the horizon. Soon, without me even noticing, it would break through the clouds.
Then, the water on my window would be chased away, revealing the world outside.
The lamps and headlights I had depended upon for hope earlier would be mere shadows compared to the brilliance of the sun. All around me, a world so much bigger than my own tiny bus would be exposed. Suddenly the trees, which I had once believed to be terrifying, would be revealed, beautiful in their timelessness, another part of creation hailing God's glory. And the rain, which I had cursed for cutting me off from the outside, was only feeding it.
As I sat there on the bus, I was overcome by a sense of God's glory. If the greatest moments we experience here on earth are only a fraction of what He truly amounts to, imagine what awaits us just outside the thin exterior of this world. Or as Paul said in 1 Corinthians 13:12, "Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now we see in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known."
So if you are surrounded by dark shadows that seem just about to engulf you, remember: the sun will rise. If you are just along for the ride, remember: the sun will rise. If you are basking in the glow of a street lamp, remember: the sun will rise. God has made a promise and he will surely keep it.
"Let us acknowledge the LORD; let us press on to acknowledge him. As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.”– Hosea 6:3
The only thing that could pierce through the water droplets were pinpoints of light from the streetlamps and headlights as we drove down the street and even those were a bit fuzzy. But still, they remained a stark contrast to the dark background of the world around them.
That is the light, I realized. You see, the limits of our mortality are like the film on the window; they keep us from truly seeing the world just beyond our own. Many of the plans God has look terrifying or intimidating because they have been distorted by this lens. But all around tiny pinpricks of light pierce through, proudly declaring that the world beyond is just as real.
Why do you only give us these tiny points of light, God? I wondered. The rest looks so scary and daunting.
Then it hit me. As I went about my morning bus ride, lost in my own thought, the world outside was not frozen. Bit by bit, as time inched forward, the sun was pushing over the horizon. Soon, without me even noticing, it would break through the clouds.
Then, the water on my window would be chased away, revealing the world outside.
The lamps and headlights I had depended upon for hope earlier would be mere shadows compared to the brilliance of the sun. All around me, a world so much bigger than my own tiny bus would be exposed. Suddenly the trees, which I had once believed to be terrifying, would be revealed, beautiful in their timelessness, another part of creation hailing God's glory. And the rain, which I had cursed for cutting me off from the outside, was only feeding it.
As I sat there on the bus, I was overcome by a sense of God's glory. If the greatest moments we experience here on earth are only a fraction of what He truly amounts to, imagine what awaits us just outside the thin exterior of this world. Or as Paul said in 1 Corinthians 13:12, "Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now we see in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known."
So if you are surrounded by dark shadows that seem just about to engulf you, remember: the sun will rise. If you are just along for the ride, remember: the sun will rise. If you are basking in the glow of a street lamp, remember: the sun will rise. God has made a promise and he will surely keep it.
"Let us acknowledge the LORD; let us press on to acknowledge him. As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.”– Hosea 6:3
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