It is Monday, and I anticipate a full week. Husband has gone to work, and Sister is still sleeping. The air is still cold, contrasted with the baking Colorado sun. Morning. It’s how the day begins.
It is always tempting to hit the ground running. I lead a full life, and there is plenty to do. But morning is when I move slowly, and I regard myself as a creature, not the Creator. A chapter read, a cup of tea, a little breakfast, prayer. On the days I begin by addressing my ambition before my Creator, my joy is too easily stolen.
Today, I have bread to bake, money to earn, articles to edit, a husband, a sister, and friends to love, and a future to consider. Yet in this morning, I acknowledge that it is my God who makes the bread rise, provides work, inspires the weaving of words, is Himself love, and gives me a future. My day is beautifully framed by God’s declaration to His people, a people into which I was grafted as a daughter who may claim this promise, “I know the plans I have for you. Plans for welfare and not calamity to give you a future and a hope.”
We yearn for a heavenly country, certainly. There are days when the ache is excruciating. But I love the glimpses through a dusty window, when we draw close to God, heaven seems so close, and the Curse is conquered through Christ right here in this broken world. Work loses its toil, and the goal of the days is not survival but thriving. What a way to begin a day- with the conquering of a curse.
This is the day that the Lord has made.