The sun rises differently in the mountains. Where there is no horizon, it slips over the peaks and ridges to reach our town. I remember walking the mile to the school bus stop, starting off in the gray and blue silence and then watching as the light first topped the highest pine trees, turning the tips to gold. Then it came, inch by inch, spreading color and warmth until it finally reached me like a blessing just before I boarded the bus full of sleepy teenagers in our long, winding trip down to the city and school.
In college I would slip quietly out of my dorm to a hidden bench in the bluff where God and I would talk as the sun lifted silently from the ocean.
Here by the lake, I again seek God in the sunrise as the sky frosts pink and the snow glitters everywhere the light touches.
The Bible speaks about Jesus returning from the east. Ezekiel 43 says, “I saw the glory of the God of Israel coming from the east. His voice was like the sound of rushing waters, and the land was radiant with his glory.” Malachi 4:2 says, “But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its rays. And you will go out and frolic like well-fed calves.” Lamentations 3 says, “…his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” Psalm 30 says, “…weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.”
Our God is a God of mornings. Of new beginnings. Of revealing light. Of hope. All the trees of the field clap their hands as He comes over the ridge, painting the darkness with glory. As He comes to us who lift our hands in the darkness and our eyes to the hills in anticipation.