Inside: What the sunrise teaches us about God’s glory and presence, even during seasons when it’s hard to feel Him with us.
Last winter, when the sun rose later and I was able to get outside to run before the break of dawn, I noticed something interesting. Dawn comes every morning, but when the sky is clear, it’s not as spectacular. It’s the presence of clouds that make the sunrise brilliant.
This doesn’t happen when it’s completely overcast, of course. But when there are white or gray clouds spread across the sky, the sun’s early morning beams reflect off them, producing all the glorious colors that take our breath away while we’re driving to work or walking to school or running down the trail.
There’s a spiritual application here, I think. Without the clouds—the problems, cares and concerns of life—we would miss many opportunities to see God’s glory and provision displayed.
I’ve found it to be true; perhaps you have too. Often, it is in seasons of struggle and weariness that we find God’s peace to be most sustaining, His comfort most reassuring, His presence most stabilizing.
Maybe we have to come to the end of ourselves to realize He truly is the only Source of everything we need?
But what about the days when the sky is completely overcast? How do they fit into our spiritual metaphor?
Is it contradictory to suggest that tough seasons provide equal opportunities to feel closer to God than ever, and also further apart than ever? Perhaps, but it’s also true.
God sometimes seems distant when we’re going through a hard time. He doesn’t appear to be answering our prayers. We don’t notice evidence of His hand at work. He feels far away.
The thing about God, though, is that He doesn’t change with our circumstances. We might not feel Him, but that doesn’t mean He’s not there. It just means we don’t feel Him.
I’ve said it before, and I will say it again—to myself and anyone else who will listen. Like love, faith is a choice. It’s a choice to believe that God is who He says He is even if He feels distant or seems unconcerned.
The thing is, glorious sunrises don’t happen very often—at least not where I live. I don’t usually get out on the trail before the sun comes up during the summer, but I can think of only two times last winter when the sky was so amazing I had to stop running and take a picture.
The sun keeps rising, though. Day after day.
The older I get, the more I’m realizing that life is a journey. It’s a long walk home. It’s a long obedience in the same direction, as Eugene Peterson titled his wonderful book.
On rainy days, sunny days, days when we see evidence of God’s hand and days when all we can do is put one foot in front of another and know that tomorrow is a new day.
These are the lessons that the dawn is teaching me. They’re obvious, perhaps, but sometimes the things that are right in front of our nose—or above our heads, as the case may be—are the things we need reminded of the most.
“From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets, the name of the Lord is to be praised.” (Psalm 113:3)
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I’m going out of town next week so I’ll be taking a short blogging break. I’ll be back in early October with new posts, including a short series about my word of the year from 2021 that I’ve been thinking about writing for much longer than that.
♥ Lois
God doesn’t change with our circumstances. We might not feel Him, but that doesn’t mean He’s not there. It just means we don’t feel Him. #Godiswithus Share on X Like love, faith is a choice. It’s a choice to believe that God is who He says He is even if He feels distant or seems unconcerned. #Godiswithus Share on XP.S. I’m linking up with OneWord2022, #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.
