The Sun Rises Through Dirty Windows
This morning, the light was both deep and airy, the perfect mix of streaking pinks, invading blues, and wispy whites joining in a chorus to welcome the day. My lips curved upward as I took in the sky beyond, and then, just a few seconds later, I felt a furrow in my brow as my gaze focused from the sunrise to the streaks and spots on the window I still hadn’t cleaned (maybe I need to reread my blog last week about procrastination, lol). Both the inside and outside of the window need some elbow grease, and the screen could do with a good spray-down, too.
But as usual, this little moment soon had me contemplating life - I’m wondering if that’s a quirk reserved solely for writers, or if everyone does that? Anyway. Here’s what’s God painted amidst the steaks of my window and in the sky beyond it: we must attend to the things that are here - the right now, in-our-face things - before we fully take in, let alone arrive at, the distant things, and when we work in the present, we have a clearer vision of what’s to come, even if it all seems really far away or impossible.
I’m convinced that God will obstruct our view to capture our attention and help us focus on preparation in our current season rather than allowing us to become distracted by longing or set out unprepared for what’s ahead. He doesn’t want us to begin a journey prematurely with our hearts, minds, or priorities out of order, so He takes the time to ensure He is at the center, making the fruit born from our journey nourishing and life-giving and good for others to eat.
Furthermore, like looking at a sunrise through a dirty window, God allows us to glimpse the destination just long enough to convince us the hard things are worth doing, and filled with mercy and love, He ensures we have all we need to make it through. I’ve heard it said, “It’s about the journey, not the destination.” Honestly, I think that quote is a bit cheesy, but I appreciate the sentiment. Often, it isn’t “about the journey” for us until we’ve finally arrived at the destination. We look back on how far we’ve come, we see where we relied on God and built altars to his faithfulness along the way, and we realize that the real reward isn’t what we’ve experienced, but how we’ve changed, and how a changed us can change the world.
Quite frankly, I’m convinced if we knew how hard (and unending) our journeys were going to be, we may have never stepped outside the door and started walking towards that sunrise in the first place, and what a shame that would be.
Thank God for dirty windows.
Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup;
you make my lot secure.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
surely, I have a delightful inheritance.
I will praise the Lord, who counsels me;
even at night, my heart instructs me.
I keep my eyes always on the Lord.
With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.
Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
my body will also rest secure,
because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead,
nor will you let your faithful one see decay.
You will make known to me the path of life;
you will fill me with joy in your presence,
with eternal pleasures at your right hand.
Psalm 16:5-11, accents added.
No matter where our journey on earth takes us, we can be confident that boundary lines have drawn us into the most pleasant of places, in the presence of God. We can choose to keep our eyes on Him, knowing He will prepare us and carry us safely through anything we encounter on our journey. We can carry joy in our hearts and gratitude on our lips because we know He will reveal the path in His timing, and he will guide our every step.
What a Good Father we have.
Maybe one day I’ll climb that hill, to see the sunrise on the other side. Probably not, though, since it’s someone else’s property, and it’s hunting season.
But I’ll still start with cleaning that window.
