Time Apart - Day 3

A psalmist's declaration wakens me very early this morning, looking out our cabin windows on a serene forest outside, full of life yet to come--even today--but for the moment still, as if waiting on God.

The psalmist said "I will awake the dawn," a strange claim if indeed he thought he had the power. Another translation has it, "I will prevent the dawn," an even stranger claim if taken literally. What he meant, of course, was not that he had the power to awaken or prevent a new day. He knew by faith and experience that only God can do that. His intention simply was to get up before dawn and his daily round to honor God's faithfulness and seek his presence.

Ought I do any less this day? Restlessness abounds in me--all the things I long for in my own soul and the life of my family--not to mention the whole human race. Who but God, if only we acknowledge him, can calm that restlessness and render life whole?

I am deeply conscious this morning of my need to wait on him--to honor his sovereignty, to seek his wisdom, to rest in his love. What better time than now, when all is still in the household, loved ones each with their own yearnings and need still sleeping, as well as neighbors all around?

Another of the psalmist's prayers flows out of memory, giving wings to all I feel: O Lord, my heart is not lifted up, my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me. But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; my soul is like a weaned child that is within me. O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time on and forevermore (131).