My reflection from today’s edition of Give Us This Day:
This past summer, when my family spent a week at the New Jersey shore, I hopped out of bed every morning to run down to the beach with my camera and capture the sun as it came up. My husband thought I was a little bit nuts to get so excited about the same sun rising every day, but I would stand there in awe over the never-changing and yet ever-changing sun. I marveled at the way it could be bold and brilliant one morning and soft and subtle the next but always, always there, even when I couldn’t see it behind the clouds.
In today’s reading from Ecclesiastes, we hear, “The sun rises and the sun goes down; then it presses on to the place where it rises.” It sounds very much like our own life cycle, doesn’t it? We rise and we rest, pushing ever onward, sometimes feeling as if every day is more of the same. In hindsight we can usually see the bold strokes or subtle nuances that set one day apart from the next, the places where God broke through. The trick is to learn to appreciate those moments as they happen, recognizing God in the daily push, even when God is hidden by the clouds of our distraction or indifference or outright pain. No matter what we face, God is always, always with us. God is our constant, the star at the center of our interior universe, guiding us forward, loving us home like rivers running to the sea.
I am blessed to be a regular contributor to Give Us This Day, a wonderful monthly prayer/Scripture subscription from Liturgical Press. If you don’t already subscribe, do yourself a favor and check it out.