The morning sun was just beginning its skyward rise as I drove to work that morning. The past few years I've commuted thirty minutes, and although the price of fuel can be a cause for concern at times, the benefits of those cherished moments more than outweigh the wordly concerns about the money in my wallet. Those precious minutes are my God-Time. I reflect, pray, turn up the volume on my Christian music, and the day is off to a beautiful beginning. No matter what happens when I arrive at my destination, God has breathed life into me, and no circumstance or situation, people or event can rob me of the memory etched clearly in my mind of time communing with God.
The sunrise is often breathtaking. I marvel at the Lord's creation frequently as I make that short trip. But that particular day? Indescribable. The multitude of pinks, lavenders, and blues against the morning sky spoke of a Heaven that surely is far more beautiful than even this amazing sight that I beheld for a few brief moments! I could not take my eyes from the changing scene. Although I monitored the traffic, my thoughts were on the gift being offered to anyone who would take time to notice.
I met cars and trucks of every description. Many drivers seemed to wear blinders, they were so focused on the route they drove. Others talked on cell phones. Still others appeared to be barely awake, not paying attention to the world outside their driver's cubicle. Was anyone other than me taking note of the spectacular scene to the east?
One of our discussion questions in Sunday school class today was this:
"What are the sights, sounds and events that you take for granted? What does it take to remind you of their significance?"
And it was natural that the subject of this gorgeous sunrise came up. I mentioned it and it seems I was not the only one taking note that special morning. At least three others in the group commented excitedly that they, also, had been deeply touched by the beautiful gift from God.
As class members thought over the probing query on the table, one spoke up in a quiet voice that he just plain forgets that God is there throughout the day.
Wow. That hit me hard. Even the gift of a sunrise can seem fleeting and quickly gone. But you see, I work in a church office. I am surrounded by godly people, godly tasks, and godly trappings. I live a sheltered life, according to some - a charmed life, according to others. But there it was, in black and white. Simple, yet profound. Quietly delivered, but loudly heard.
I forget He's there. Well, there are those amazing scenes like the sunrise and gorgeous sunsets over the cornfield that I notice throughout the year. And there is the winter scene of snow and ice sculptures at every turn. But do I really believe He's here?
Oh, I call on Him plenty throughout the day. I implore Him to right wrongs and to intervene for the sick and grieving. I pray for the preschool child that screams for his mother across the hall. I lift up the poor who call our number for rent money or utilities assistance. But do I remember that He sits at my desk? Do I realize He's in the car as I make my way through town to run errands, to work, and back home again?
I forget He's there.
When I'm seated in the church pew, I remember He's there. When I'm gathered with Sunday school class friends, I know He's with us.
Lysa TerKeurst speaks in one of her CDs about offering herself to God for His divine purpose every morning:
"My morning prayer, before my feet even hit the floor, is... God, today I want to see you, today I want to hear you, today I want to know you. Lord, interrupt my day for your good pleasure."
She is ahead of me in this Presence question. I don't have to find Him in some particular place throughout the day. I don't have to have a sunrise to remind me. I don't have to seek Him at an address. I don't have to wonder if He's going to show up.
Today I will remember that He is already here.
From our Sunday school lesson:
"Thankfully God uses ordinary people to accomplish His good and loving will. In the process He may interrupt your plans, do the impossible, and bring immense joy."
Today I will remember that He is already here. And I will offer myself up to Him as a gift - no strings, no caveat, no footnote, no disclaimer.
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