If you’re on the east coast of Florida, by the ocean, a highlight is to watch the sun come up over the water.
That’s what my friend, Marc, says.
We were at a kick-off retreat this weekend by the ocean. A new group of folks transitioning into Orlando from all parts of the globe. An opportunity to introduce newbies to one of the finer points of Florida living in the summer.
Marc, our main speaker, waxed eloquently about the beauty of the sunrise he and his wife Patty witnessed from the beach. Patty’s more of a sunset person, not quite the early riser her husband is. But she loves to photograph sunrises, so they made it happen.
I was at my computer when the sun came up. Trying to catch up on what I’ve been ignoring. I saw the sun come through the curtain, but I didn’t think of going on the balcony to watch.
I’ve seen sunrises on the beach before, and they are spectacular. I waited outside the next morning for the glorious beauty of rays peeking over the horizon.
Clouds had moved in and blocked the sun. I knew it was coming up because the light reflected off the top of the clouds.
I was disappointed. Which happens when I want to experience something and the opportunity is taken from me.
Others had been inspired by Marc as well. Folks were sitting on the beach, watching the horizon. Waiting.
To add insult to injury, Marc shared in his next talk how he and Patty had seen the sunset from the shores of the Intercoastal waterway.
I missed out completely.
I hear others share with me how Jesus has showed up in their lives in heart-healing ways, and my response is, “Why doesn’t He do that for me?” I’m waiting on the beach for the sun to rise–all I see are clouds.
As a follower of Jesus, I act as if I’m entitled to pain free living. That things will always work out as I want them to.
Walking with Jesus isn’t a life fix. It’s not a crutch for inadequacy or a bandage to protect my woundedness from oozing out and messing up the rest of me.
Things will go wrong. On cloudy days, I don’t see the sun at all.
Much of the world will watch the solar eclipse Monday afternoon and be in awe how the sun could be blotted out in the middle of the day.
The eclipse doesn’t do away with the sun. It covers it for awhile.
I have days of darkness, when things don’t go well. When loss and pain are my companions rather than joy. When it feels like everything is against me.
The Son is still there. Waiting for me to lean into Him. To trust Him with my hurt.
Nothing can stop the Son from shining.