This is possibly the worst Sunday of the year. Daylight saving time ends. Now come Sunday evening and Monday morning I'm going to be thrilled. The day is longer. It's not dark 20 minutes after I get home. Soon every day, not just a select few, will be warmer. The loss of the precious hour of sleep is worth the sacrifice, yet trying to remain not just vertical but functional this Sunday morning is just going to be a challenge.
I've recently come across these verses from Psalm 19. They've always been there; I've just now noticed them.
God has made a home in the heavens for the sun.
It bursts forth like a radiant bridegroom after his wedding. It rejoices like a great athlete eager to run the race.
The sun rises at one end of the heavens and follows its course to the other end. Nothing can hide from its heat.
This is one of the most illustrative expressions of a sunrise. Bursting, rejoicing, rising, examining; in the course of a day the sun in its grand design accomplishes much. There is something so simple in these words that is extremely easy to pass over.
We set our clocks to the sun; twice in the year we reset them. The sun sets the seasons of planting and harvesting. New loves are birthed and old ones rekindled under her setting. In all those things we respond to the sun, but notice who the sun responds to.
The sun's course is set by God, who made its home in the heavens. The sun's heat touches everything, but God is the one who cultivated its warmth. Its rays race over the heavens, but God knows every place, person and thing they touch.
This past January a massive solar storm temporarily upset cell signals but in return created spectacular northern lights seen farther south than usual. A fair trade, in my opinion. I've never lived in a region that could fully enjoy the splendor of the aurora borealis. This year there I was able to catch a brief glimpse of this natural light show. For a few moments I was able to catch another splendor of the sun. God set that splendor well.
If God can suspend the sun in our galaxy, then certainly he can hold me up with an hour less of sleep.
Rob Hurtgen is a husband, father, minister and writer. Read more from him at www.robhurtgen.wordpress.com.