In the early hours I rose, reluctantly, to use the campground’s pit toilet. Upon leaving it to return to “bed,” I looked up and was halted by a breathtaking ivory moon in the dawning sky. Bird songs accompanied it, and I thought that the Spirit surely hovers over the twilight as God finished preparing the day.

The dimness served to still me. To make me anticipate, to consider what He might have set in store for me and us today. I stared hard at the light He made to rule the night, trying to fathom anything. Then I crossed the road and, before re-entering the tent, I gazed across the campsite to the river and the hill beyond. Everything seems so lonesome and holy in these fleeting moments. Just breaths and inklings. God has hidden this here for me, knowing I would come across it – like a trapper’s snare, but for good and glory and life and renewal – here at the edge of the day. To say, “You are Mine. I know you. I’m already here.” To recreate me by His breath for another day in His world.

The Almighty, who spoke into being the universe, has deigned to welcome me to His day. His kindness is unending. Who am I that You are mindful of me? I do not understand; You are too much for me. I feel overwhelmed and startled by Your attention. I wonder not at all that Your glory and presence have been considered dangerous, and terrifying. If You can use Your voice to create the burning sun, what power are we so nonchalantly engaging with our casual invocations, even our cursing? We are out of our depth in our defiance, our ignorance, our apathy. This God leaves room for none of those things.

But:

To be loved by this God?

What joy. What inexpressible honour. God’s glory should make us serious, but His love should make us light.

We’re left in awe, that the holy splendour has drawn near to us – and moved in.

The grace and favour of the Source of Existence is upon me. Everything I have is His. I mean Everything. Not just my house or my money or time. But also, my body, my thoughts, my lungs, my preferences, longings, impulses, all the things I think make me “me.” These belong to Him, because I belong to Him.

He is surely speaking; it is we who decline to listen. He is showing us Himself and the way to Him all the time. We choose ourselves, like true idiots. Most of what we do makes no sense in light of God and all the implications of God. We fill our minds with inane material, and our time with either worries or distractions from those worries. As though God didn’t exist, or isn’t constantly at work making all things new. As though what we do either matters too little (thus we have no accountability to our Creator) or matters too much (thus we bear the weight of the heavy illusion of control).

But we are clay, shaped for many various purposes, and we ought to ask the Potter, “What have You made me to be and to do? What is Your priority for me, and how may I fulfill this in Your service? What have You given me to steward, and what is not mine to carry or perform? And, [of course] how can I ensure others know Your work? How can they know You made me and them? And, [most incredibly] how can I know You and be with You?”

I want to learn to take this different view. That the life of a child of God is first about being, and being with. And as that identity grows deep roots, out of it I want to go into the territory set ahead of me. With a kind of assurance I am only just beginning to glimpse, but which I hope will continually become more and more a part of me, as the warm light dawns slowly on the mountainsides on a clear day.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,

Look full in His wonderful face,

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,

In the light of His glory and grace.

– Helen Howarth Lemmel

Fair is the sunshine,

fairer still the moonlight,

and all the twinkling starry host:

Jesus shines brighter,

Jesus shines purer

than all the angels heaven can boast.