You shatter the sky with the light of your face and it catches me unawares—the dark of the past few days having settled deep into the center of me. We rise into shadow now, move from room to room blind in the mornings. We feel our way through the motions of preparing for the day, in silence, sleepwalking; groping our way through the murk. And when the rain comes, it leeches out every ounce of light, bringing a gray sky and draping all the earth in this cold dampness.
But this morning, as I return from dropping the boys at school…you gather the dark at its edges and—like a sheet—shake it free of dim remnants. The gray is broken into shards of silver and golden light gilds the heavens. With this sweet chariot of light comes the return of joy and I can understand how the ancients would be so dazzled that they would confuse this glory with the One who made it. But the Psalms tell me what this sky is speaking. The heavens declare the glory of God…day after day they pour forth speech, I read. And, yes, I think, this is what Madame Sun is doing—stepping up to the podium to deliver a speech. And Eugene Peterson says in the Message that the morning sun’s a new husband leaping from his honeymoon bed…(Psalm 19) And I am a bride again, naked joy leaping in my heart.
The sun rises every morning and makes that slow walk across the sky to sink deep into an inky bed. Every day, the same thing. Why should it instill in me such a dizzying response…still? It never ceases to delight and I think about my favorite quote from G.K. Chesterton and I know this monotony of sunrise to sunset is so much more than a demonstration of my Beloved’s faithfulness. It is a gift of beauty…a token of love left on the pillow.
This sunrise is the love letter that I often leave unopened each morning.
“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, “Do it again”; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again” to the sun; and every evening, “Do it again” to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.” –G.K. Chesterton
How do you embrace the God-joy? Every Monday I’ll be sharing one of my Playdates with God. I would love to hear about yours. It can be anything: outside, quiet time. Maybe it’s solitary. Maybe it’s loud and crowded. Just find Him. Be with Him. Grab my button at the bottom of the page and join us:
the Playdates button: