Jet lag is an odd thing. When our plane was half way across the Atlantic I decided to set my watch for Chicago time so I’d know how much longer I’d have to sit in that tiny seat. After moving it forward 6 hours, I thought “Wow! I napped longer than I thought. We’re almost there!”
But I’d mistakenly set it 6 hours in the wrong direction. So, after undoing my 6 forward hours and adding 6 backward ones for an accurate time change, it turned out we’d barely left Ireland behind.
Once at home, adjusting to the time change was rocky. The first morning I awoke at 2:30 am Michigan time and coaxed myself back to sleep. Then it was 4:20, and I told myself, “Get one more hour.” But 5:05 was the best I could do (10:05 UK time). The sad part was that my body thought I’d slept in.
By 7:00 I’d unpacked, started the laundry, had an extended prayer time, answered emails, and caught up on my reading. It was still dark. Weather.com told me the sun would rise at 7:20, so I decided to walk to the beach.
We live on Lake Michigan’s east side looking toward the west and are used to nightly sunsets, but in 66 years of coming to this same beach, I don’t ever remember seeing a sunrise. As I arrived, a twilight blue was developing over the dune, dominated by fast-moving grey clouds.
My winter coat felt good, and I pulled the hood on against a stiff wind. Facing the dunes toward the east I anticipated a spectacular sunrise because of the clouds, so camera-in-hand, I stood watching and waiting.
And waiting.
Though the sky lightened, the clouds didn’t. Eventually, pencil lines of gold etched their tops, but not even enough to show in a picture. I knew that eventually the sky would just have to be ablaze with color, so still facing east, I waited some more. Twenty minutes went by, and daylight began to take over the beach. But the eastern sky remained lifeless.
Growing impatient, I turned around toward the water, and here’s what I saw…
While I’d been focused on the clouds above the east side dune, a light show had been going on behind me in the west, but who would expect a sunrise from that direction? The heavens were telling their story in a 180, at least on that morning.
What a perfect parallel to the surprising work God does. While looking at stormy, dark circumstances, we watch faithfully for God’s light to break through. We don’t doubt it will, but get impatient if it takes too long.
But when we decide to turn away from the darkness and actively search for him and his work, we’re bowled over by what we see. He was there all the time, but we’d just been looking in the wrong direction.
“Lord, you are my God; I will exalt you and praise your name, for in perfect faithfulness you have done wonderful things, things planned long ago.” (Isaiah 25:1)
