The cushy beds in the tent trailer at Convict Lake claimed my son-in-law and grandson as I rose alone at early dawn to entice a few trout in the creek. Yes, I caught a few. But better than the rainbows was the reminder of God’s patience. The crisp dry air of mountain mornings brings a unique freshness. Being immersed in God’s creation makes me more aware of him, and the following flowed from that.
“Mountain Mornings”
The Sierras slumber
quiet
hushed
until shafts of sunlight shatter the stillness
The rising sun reveals
mountain crags
shadows showing contours
of a soaring thunderbird
on a chiseled rock face
The chill of early morn
slowly eased
as bone-chilling gives way
to life-giving warmth on a cheek
A morning
ushered in by a robin’s song
greeted by a wandering doe
each seen
by a solitary fisherman
on a Sierra stream
Signs
all signs
of God’s enduring hope
A fresh start. Yeah, I think often of the true cliché that each day begins the rest of our lives, that each is new, brief, and to be cherished. How each day allows us to move beyond past mistakes with a somewhat clean slate. But on this morning, the impact went deeper.
You see, each day is another example that God still has hope for us. That we haven’t ruined things beyond repair. Once, God destroyed nearly all the world in hope that a fresh start would be different. OK, I’m old, but not even I was around to see how bad those days were, but ours might be able to compete.
God’s hope for us endures. I start most days reading the news, and usually it doesn’t thrill me. Corporately and individually, we often fall far short of what God hopes for us. But he continues hoping. Far more than I would: “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”
My patience, and my hope for others, has definite limits, and people often reach them quickly. Yes, that’s true confession time, not personal bragging time. But I’m struck with how each day reminds us that God hasn’t given up on us.
Last week a good friend, Dan DeWitt, posted a meme of a bridge arching over a chasm, but with the far side shrouded in a cloud, with the verse attached, “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” (Hebrews 11:1).
Each morning gives me hope for what I don’t see, that God’s love and care will be with me at the end of the bridge.
Kick Starting the Application
What in your life likely disappoints God the most? Have you thought of it in those terms before? What keeps you from making changes to decrease God’s disappointment? How would your walk with Jesus be different if you fully grasped that God still has hopes for you? If hope is a good thing, what can you do in this next week to increase the amount of hope in the world? If you try this, can you let us know how it went?
PS This poem comes from my book “Outdoor Adventures, Sacred Trails,” and is a fine gift. 😉
