AM Psalm 41, 52; PM Psalm 44; Isaiah 8:16-9:1; 2 Peter 1:1-11; Luke 22:39-53
“If we had forgotten the name of our God, or
spread out our hands to a strange god, would not God discover this? For he knows the secrets of the heart.”
Psalm 44: 20-21.
The sun rose this morning. Not that unusual, is it? It is when it surprises you right through a
morning fog you hadn’t thought would lift…it surprises you when you are sitting
at the dining room table facing right into it as it appears and it both burns your
eyes and warms your skin…it surprises you when it happens at the very moment
you are pondering the readings for the Advent reflection you are set to write,
and the phrase which has jumped out fits perfectly. God is good indeed.
In my work as a therapist I’m often
focusing on the challenge of finding one’s authentic heart, which can be as had
to find as a sunrise on a foggy morning.
I find that once found, the revelation of the brilliance of the light
startles, sometimes frightens, often amazes.
That which I’m honored to see in the therapy office surely parallels the
journey toward authenticity of our spiritual selves in relation to God. Startling, sometimes frightening, usually
amazing to behold.
In my job, I often sit (figuratively
and literally) with whomever is on the journey, with great faith and hope that
the work can be fruitful. As I sit this
morning and watch the sun rise in the sky, I’m struck at the very moment it is
partially shaded by the cross beam of the window. It’s streaming from above and below so that I
can look right at it but not hurt my eyes.
If I tilt my head back it’s right in my eyes…if I close them, I can feel
the warmth on my face. I sit, but it
isn’t completely comfortable to be quite honest. Yet I realize that all I have to do is sit
and be still with it…and if I wait, the sun will naturally rise in the sky,
bathing the world in sunlight and even a bit of warmth for this beginning of
December. The waiting seems so symbolic
of our waiting to feel God’s presence, the waiting of this Advent season.
Whether it’s in my (or any) therapy
office or it’s in our journey with God, sitting and waiting isn’t always easy. And as often as the sun has risen in my 48
years on earth, somehow my first thought in looking into the fog this morning
wasn’t that it would, indeed, lift, but rather I found
myself surprised that it did. I’m grateful for today’s Psalm, with it’s much
needed reminder that even if I don’t know my own heart, He does.
(Lori Churchill)
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