“DAYBREAK”
It is just before 7:00, and I am already at the university where I teach for a 9:00 a.m. class. I like to beat the rush hour traffic. The sun is not up yet, but it is already fairly light out. I sit on bench. I can see the downtown section of Cincinnati, the river, the hills of Kentucky. There is a breeze. Some roses, some weeds, and some trash are gathered at my feet. Birds fly over.
I love the early mornings. However, when you get up at 2:30, 7:00 doesn’t really seem all that early.
And yet, I still struggle with the darkness within.
Darkness comes in many forms. There is the darkness of my past, of the people I’ve hurt. There is the darkness of the people who have rejected me. There are many who seem to believe that I have not changed, that I will never change, that I can’t change.
I think they’re wrong, but I am not sure. Sometimes, I think that I myself am underselling how much I’ve grown, how much I’ve changed for the better. At other times . . .
The sun is coming up now over some very large building across the hill. I need some light for this day, some hope, some peace.
A bird sings.
Zacharias, an aged man with his aged wife Elizabeth, had experienced the darkness of being unable to have a child. And then, when all hope was gone, they were miraculously given a son. Zacharias sang a song to his newborn, and the gospel writer Luke wrote it down. Here is part of the song Zacharias sang to his son:
“76 And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,
77 to give knowledge of salvation to his people
in the forgiveness of their sins,
78 because of the tender mercy of our God,
whereby the sunrise shall visit usfrom on high
79 to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
The knowledge of salvation, the forgiveness of sins, the tender mercy of our God, sunrise—that all sounds pretty good.
So, I am listening to the song “God Only Knows” (the version with Dolly Parton), and fighting back the tears. I’ve already had a good cry this morning, collapsing on the kitchen floor and dissolving in a puddle of tears. I don’t need to be crying again. I don’t want to go before my students with red eyes and a sinus headache.
The sun is fighting to rise above the clouds. I’m going to bet on the sun today.
Recent Comments