Blazing color fills the air from changing leaves to the morning sunrise- red, yellow, orange and everything in between. The diversity is lovely. That we would feel the same way about the diversity of colors on flesh. It’s 6.39, the coffee just finished brewing. Ok, I’m back now, watching the steam rise from that ceramic mug, hearing the whir of Owen’s swing as it rocks him into shameless slumber. Mornings are good, especially when I take the time to soak them in. Nothing attempted or completed today will be worthwhile, truly satisfying, if I hurry through my morning. Morning sets the tone for afternoon and evening. It invites me to put my trust in the Lord my God to which I have to respond. Sometimes rejection or avoidance, other times wrestling, and hopefully, most often, acceptance.
The morning is a time of quiet. If I pause long enough to notice, I can carry some of that with me through the day. Quiet, something underrated in our day. Something we all secretly hunger for but are afraid of. Afraid of who we will see in the silence of our own thoughts. Who is it that we have really become over and against who we perceive ourselves to be? The disappearance of self. Calvin has said that there are two kinds of knowledge, the knowledge of God and knowledge of self. We are deficient on both accounts, not because of opportunity, our land is filled with that, but out of self-determined ignorance. We would rather be knowledgeable about what other insecure, self-determined ignorant people think about us.
The morning also offers peace, a peace which is not guaranteed by the quiet, nor by the morning. The context of a quiet morning can lead to an encounter of the grandest kind, an encounter with the morning-maker, the Creator of souls and bodies run ragged. If we are still enough, we can hear his voice, the one who spoke and the waters and flowed, the ground bloomed and the sky shone. It’s like we can reach back from the turbulence of John’s Apocalypse to the peace of the Garden. He sits with us when we sit, watches the steam billow from our coffee cup- even more amazing, he holds the coffee and water particles together for our enjoyment, the chair we sit in to ponder his presence, the lungs we breathe with to experience it all. He’s always been good. The morning invites us to see his goodness and to participate in his peace. The morning offers us this transport, from Revelation to Genesis, but only because it is subject to the Priest of Peace. Of course, not all mornings are such because the King of Peace has not yet returned to rule over the mornings of the new creation, but that will come. An endless age of mornings awaits us, and beckons us each day, to quell our fears and worries in the quiet and peace of the good and grand Creator.