Leave your phone, your notebook, and your water bottle behind.
Just you and me around the lake this morning.
Can you do this?
But what if the sunrise is spectacular?
My sunrise is not meant for you to preserve,
distribute or reproduce.
But what if there are words to record?
My words will be there,
when you return.
But what if I’m thirsty?
There’s a fountain part way around,
but you won’t need it.
So, out the door,
down the steps,
along the ramp
and through the archway I go.
Onto the path that encircles the lake.
There, there in the East is the glow.
The shadows deep, growing pink on the waters,
the geese and the swans, silhouetted against it all,
going about their morning as if this happens every day.
But I, I the intruder,
the visitor from out of town,
pause at the spectacle and smile at the cast.
Behold, the Premier! the one and only showing of
Sunrise. Today. For me.
Tears. Tears of joy.
This is a mere yawn
for the Creator of the Dawn.
Rounding the bend,
the action in the eastern sky is obscured by trees, hills and shoreline.
Wait! Don’t go!
I race around the bend but, alas,
I’m too small to see it.
Too near to perceive it.
Look away, my child.
There, in the away,
by the light of the sun just risen,
I see the day.
Take nothing with you, said He.
Nothing to encumber. Hands free.
Let me show you the Glory meant for you.
Just the two of us, here in the morning, on the mountain, around the lake.
What can I do in the face of a God who loves me like that?
Ah fiction. It has so much truth to tell…
They were running hand in hand, and the Queen went so fast that it was all Alice could do to keep up with her: and still the Queen kept crying “Faster! Faster!”… The most curious part of the thing was, that … however fast they went, they never seemed to pass anything…. “In our country,” said Alice, … “you’d generally get to somewhere else—if you ran very fast for a long time as we’ve been doing.”
“A slow sort of country!” said the Queen. “Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that.”
Funny, I was rooting for Alice. Not to pass anything, but to pass any one, because that is where I run. Not to get to somewhere, but to get ahead of someone. Who has the patience to fall in behind that slow car in the slow lane when there are so many places I need to get?
Alas, what if I set that vehicle on cruise control at the speed limit and thought no more about it? No worries about the police vehicle parked on the median. No concern about the motorist who stomps on the gas to power by me. No angst about the destination I will arrive at in measured time.
Imagine the worlds I might create with that clean sheet of brain space released on its own recognizance, free to travel wherever it pleased, all the while headed in the right direction?
The hurrieder I go, the behinder I get.
That phrase, from a poster on my high school bedroom wall, is haunting me today. Not because time has passed, but because it hasn’t seemed to. It’s even more true today than it was back then, and it has me wondering whether I am making any headway.
Speed breeds errors. Which mean do-overs. Which take time. Which I have to take from something else I need to be doing. Which is on my mind as I rush to do again what I rushed through the first time.
Does this bother anyone else?
Slow down and get it right the first time beats like a drum in my daily doing. But slow doesn’t do it. Slow falls behind. Slow blows your doors off as they pass on the left and on the right. Slow, but sure, wins the race is for tortoises, not for today.
Somehow the quality of my living has to match the demands of the daily, but without do-overs. I don’t have any right to insist the other slow down so I can catch up. We all have the same twenty four hours to do the will of the One who sent us. I just need to get it righter, so I don’t get behinder. As the rush of wind circles back to pick up what it dropped, I will catch up.
What if my new poster is…
If God is in the race then God is in the pace.
How would Jesus run? I’m thinking He’d be a little bit like American Pharoah – but without the typo.
- He’d be cool and collected in the starting blocks.
- He wouldn’t burst into the lead right from the start.
- He’d vary his racing strategy to suit the competitors.
- He would trust His preparation and apply it through each turn and straight-away.
- He’d always have a finishing kick.
- He’d compete at all distances and
- win every race.
My preparation is on-going even as I am running this race. I needn’t concern myself with trouncing the other competitors, but I do need to tap all the energy stores, exert myself responsibly and when the time is right, count on my finishing kick.
This race has already been won, folks. There’s no hurry.