Rayless Beauty
A medical procedure required a pre-dawn drive to the surgery center, and, as we went, the softest of lights hugged my anxious heart. Passing waking homes, I could almost see pajama-clad, sleepy-eyed moms and dads with their first cups of coffee warm in their hands.
Darkened with heavy clouds, the sleepy sky refused to wake enough to brighten our travels but blessed us with only intermittent showers. As gloomy as they seemed, the rayless puffs were illuminating, giving glimpses of a deeper beauty, pointing to the slow, peaceful way Creator God wakes the day and the sky, as a gentle mother or father would a child. The heavens ease seamlessly into daybreak punctuated by birdsong.
There is a sweet, intimate, gentle invitation extended to the created by the Creator in the pre-dawn. His mercies are new every morning.
This is the heart of the great treasure of the early hours: blessed quietness. We are invited and welcomed to draw close to the one that knows us yet loves us and wants to whisper to our weary souls — souls that have just risen and are fresh pages colored only with pale strokes of the night’s fading dreams, ready for the pen of His heart.
O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh longeth for thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is. Psalm 63:1 KJV
Darkened with heavy clouds, the sleepy sky refused to wake enough to brighten our travels but blessed us with only intermittent showers. As gloomy as they seemed, the rayless puffs were illuminating, giving glimpses of a deeper beauty, pointing to the slow, peaceful way Creator God wakes the day and the sky, as a gentle mother or father would a child. The heavens ease seamlessly into daybreak punctuated by birdsong.
There is a sweet, intimate, gentle invitation extended to the created by the Creator in the pre-dawn. His mercies are new every morning.
This is the heart of the great treasure of the early hours: blessed quietness. We are invited and welcomed to draw close to the one that knows us yet loves us and wants to whisper to our weary souls — souls that have just risen and are fresh pages colored only with pale strokes of the night’s fading dreams, ready for the pen of His heart.
O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh longeth for thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is. Psalm 63:1 KJV
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