THE SUNRISE FROM ON HIGH
I just started reading Luke in my morning devotions. This morning, I got to a verse I hadn't read before: "Because of the tender mercy of our God, with which the Sunrise from on high will visit us . . . " (Luke 1:78). But the imagery is not new to me. It's from an image in Malachi 4:2 of the Sun of Righteousness rising up with healing in its wings. I've always liked that image of Jesus, and how wonderful to have it brought to my attention this morning, as I am up early before the dawn.
I recall an early morning during my college years when I biked from my dorm to Lemon Hill in Fairmount Park to watch the sun rise. The air was brisk, the ground damp with dew. I unrolled a square of tarp, sat facing east, and waited for light. The other place I like to watch the sun rise is Hunter's Point in San Jose, California. The Silicon Valley really is a valley, and it is gorgeous to stand on mountains on one side and watch the sun peek out from the mountains on the other side, with the intricate network of cities and streets in between.
But that day in Lemon Hill, no mountains. The sun instead pierced the horizon, providing enough light to see a vast swath of blighted North Philadelphia. I marveled out how old and run-down it looked. I thought of my friend, who grew up in North Philadelphia, and who used to escape the oppression of violence and decay of the street level by going up to the roof of his dad's church. It is called the Badlands, and that morning on Lemon Hill, it symbolized all the badness of Philadelphia; of all cities. I literally saw, at a glance, hundreds of blocks, each with their own stories of ruin and brokenness. It quite overwhelmed me, to take this all in at once.
At then, just minutes after the sun had made a line in the horizon, it rose higher, high enough to illumine the city. For a span of a few minutes, the intricacy of the neighborhoods and the rowhouses and the streets was lost in a blaze of brightness and glory. I could no longer make out anything but light. For awhile, I even had to avert my eyes. Just as the depth of need and depravity had taken my breath away just minutes ago, so did the overpowering image of radiance make me gasp in awe and worship. Indeed, the Sunrise from on high had arrived. God, thank you for showing me then, and reminding me this morning, that Your glory is greater than all of the mess that we face in our cities.
I just started reading Luke in my morning devotions. This morning, I got to a verse I hadn't read before: "Because of the tender mercy of our God, with which the Sunrise from on high will visit us . . . " (Luke 1:78). But the imagery is not new to me. It's from an image in Malachi 4:2 of the Sun of Righteousness rising up with healing in its wings. I've always liked that image of Jesus, and how wonderful to have it brought to my attention this morning, as I am up early before the dawn.
I recall an early morning during my college years when I biked from my dorm to Lemon Hill in Fairmount Park to watch the sun rise. The air was brisk, the ground damp with dew. I unrolled a square of tarp, sat facing east, and waited for light. The other place I like to watch the sun rise is Hunter's Point in San Jose, California. The Silicon Valley really is a valley, and it is gorgeous to stand on mountains on one side and watch the sun peek out from the mountains on the other side, with the intricate network of cities and streets in between.
But that day in Lemon Hill, no mountains. The sun instead pierced the horizon, providing enough light to see a vast swath of blighted North Philadelphia. I marveled out how old and run-down it looked. I thought of my friend, who grew up in North Philadelphia, and who used to escape the oppression of violence and decay of the street level by going up to the roof of his dad's church. It is called the Badlands, and that morning on Lemon Hill, it symbolized all the badness of Philadelphia; of all cities. I literally saw, at a glance, hundreds of blocks, each with their own stories of ruin and brokenness. It quite overwhelmed me, to take this all in at once.
At then, just minutes after the sun had made a line in the horizon, it rose higher, high enough to illumine the city. For a span of a few minutes, the intricacy of the neighborhoods and the rowhouses and the streets was lost in a blaze of brightness and glory. I could no longer make out anything but light. For awhile, I even had to avert my eyes. Just as the depth of need and depravity had taken my breath away just minutes ago, so did the overpowering image of radiance make me gasp in awe and worship. Indeed, the Sunrise from on high had arrived. God, thank you for showing me then, and reminding me this morning, that Your glory is greater than all of the mess that we face in our cities.
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