Early Rising

While I must confess to enjoying more sunsets than sunrises, I also acknowledge that there is something very special about the morning.  The spiritual giants from the past always made such good use of it as they allowed themselves to be energized by the newness of a new day with the God they loved.  I have two favorite morning songs.  One causes me to sing with great enthusiasm, "O what a beautiful morning, O what a beautiful day..."  The second favorite morning song brings forth a spirit of joy and awe as I sing, "When morning guilds the sky, my heart awakening cries, May Jesus Christ be praised..."   I have often gone out on the front porch here at the farm and offered my voice to the praise unfolding to the Creator.    

Morning surely speak to each of us in different ways.  For some it is a sign of God's grace as He rouses us from our sleep for another day of living   For another it might speak of a clean slate and the way God is always ready to offer forgiveness to us.   Some speak of the morning as a symbol of a new opportunity which God is always eager to provide to us.  For the mystics of the past and present it points to a moment for stepping into the stream of what God is about in the world.  Regardless of how it is viewed and described, each morning is a gift regardless of whether it is one of sunshine or rain.   

What a commentary it is on our society to realize that this gift of morning is so wasted and taken for granted.  For so many it is just a platform for launching a busy and activity filled day.  It is not a moment to be experienced, but one which enables us to get started on our journey toward the evening when we feel like we can catch our breath once again for an hour or two.   There is nothing which better prepares us for our daily journey like some quiet time in the morning with the One who gives us the day.  For those who declare they would like to have such a time, but the morning is too filled with preparation for the rest of the day, the solution is simple.  Get up earlier.

The Valley Yet to Be

Some say dreams come and go.  The darkness gives them life and the light chases them away.  Some are indeed so fleeting they are ever forgotten, but some come and never go away.  They linger in the waking hours, they tantalize the soul with unseen realities, and keep our minds captivated in the mystery.  A dream came the other night, or maybe, it should be said, it came in the twilight between here and there.  It was a dream filled with visions of a valley so rich in color and so full of a morning light that was coming that I knew it was a dream of a valley yet to be.  It was like a freshly painted portrait so full of coming light that I knew the valley of my dream was called heaven.    

Perhaps, the dream came in the night it came because of the nearness of the night to the day of All Saints and my thoughts racing toward it.  The list of saints on the other side grows longer with the passing of each year.  I have heard it said by some that there are more friends and family on the other side of the veil than on this side where sight prevails over faith.  As the years continue to bring us to more and more moments of saying farewell, I am beginning to see what is ahead more clearly.  What is ahead is not just that moment when others here will say farewell to me as one gone from here, but instead I know that what is ahead is "a homeland...a better country, that is a heavenly one."  (Hebrews 11:14-16).   

What we learn from our journey from the womb of conception to the heavenly Home is that life is so very precious.  What makes it so precious is the grace of God which for some mysterious reason continues to provide the amazing gift of being here.  Being here makes it possible for us to love and to be loved which is another precious gift.  Being loved and loving enables us to see beyond ourselves and if we learn to look far enough, we begin to catch glimpses of those who have finished the course of this life and the beauty which awaits us in the valley yet to be.

The Hidden Ritual

I think someone has already written a book about visiting a different church every Sunday for a year, but at times I have felt like I was heading in that direction.  Today worship took place in church number nineteen on this journey that goes back about a year and a half.  It has finally brought me to finding a church home, but the journey from being completely disconnected to finding myself connected to a congregation has been a circuitous one.  As one who was never able to do much church visiting, I must admit it has been an interesting experience.    

One of the things noticed again today is what must be a rather contemporary trend as I never would have thought of doing it.  In many of the congregations visited there is no moment for offering plates to be passed along the pews.  Instead, it is announced at some point during the service that the offering plates are at the door so people can put in their offerings as they leave.  In most of the places where this is the practice, the announcement is followed by the traditional singing of the Doxology.  As someone who has seen a thousand offering plates passed among the pews, I find the practice somewhat strange to the point of saying that I miss the offering plates coming my way.   

I wonder about the rationale behind the change.  While I have not talked to today's preachers about the change, I think I know some of the reasons.  Despite the expediency of saving a few moments, or eliminating the discomfort some might experience, it seems that the act of giving is an important part of worship and I miss this particular response being given expression in our gatherings.  Old preachers can get set in their ways and I suppose I am guilty at both points.  Being old and set in my ways.  I just miss making a bigger deal about giving some of what He has given to us back to Him.