For those who have never done it, you need to drive east on I40 between the hours of 5:30-7:00am during late October/early November. Seeing the different phases of the sunrise (as you're driving directly into it) is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Not only do you get the sunrise, but you also get to enjoy the brilliant colors of the trees as they are changing. I'll give you three guesses what I did this morning, and the first two don't count. Here's my morning:
At 5:35, I left my apartment and headed to Nashville. It was pitch black outside, but I had already gotten excited about driving east and watching the sun rise. For about 30 minutes, it felt like it was night time. At about 6:00, things started to get a little less dark--not daylight, but more like late evening/early night. I began to get more excited about getting to watch the sun rise. At 6:17, I was approaching the Tennessee River, and consequently, a huge patch of fog. I could barely see 10 feet in front of me. The few other travelers and I began to slow down. The muscles in my legs and stomach began to tighten up. Driving through fog is unnerving. At this moment, I wished even more that the sun would come out.
We made it across the river, and for the next 45 minutes or so, it was a pretty smooth trip, able to see the road each moment more clearly than the moment before. I realized that I was experiencing the benefits, but I still couldn't see the source of the light. I thought about that in relation to Jesus, the exact representation of God, our Sovereign Father. How often we see the things around up that let us know He's there, but we can't see Him....yet.
As I approached the Buffalo River, I saw another patch of fog--less dense than the first, but still fairly thick. This time it was different, though. The closer I drove to the bridge, the more I could see through the fog. I realized it was because of the light. The sun was more exposed, casting more light, which overpowered the fog. I felt safer with more light. This time, I thought about the Trinity, especially the Holy Spirit. When I don't understand at all what God is doing, knowing that He is near and watching Him reveal Himself is a source of great comfort. The Spirit is my anchor and makes a season of uncertainty seem a lot more safe and secure.
I kept driving, and it wasn't long before I noticed bright shards of light bursting through the cracks in the line of trees. Yes, I40 goes east and west, but there are parts that go more NE and SW. There were times when I saw the brightness of the yellow trees to my left, and I knew it was because of the sun, but because of the trees on my right, I couldn't see the source of the light. No matter what part of the road I traveled, though, I always knew where the sun was...even though I still couldn't see it. There was always a part of the sky that was more lit than the rest, and, though it may seem elementary and mundane (and probably repetitive), I found great comfort in knowing that where the light was, there the sun was...even though I saw it not.
At 7:17, exactly one hour from the first patch of dense fog, I drove over a hill, and I couldn't help but smile. There it was! The sun--huge, brilliant, breathtaking. Though I've passed it innumerable times, I've never seen the horses' lanes of Iroquois Steeplechase look so beautiful. I couldn't look directly at the sun, for it caused everything else in my line of vision to disappear (which is never a good thing when you're driving). Again, I was reminded of Jesus. When we see things in light of (no pun intended) Him, He makes even the simplest things seem magnificent.
Oh, that I would learn to love my Jesus more. To know the worth of His beauty and the exactness of representation of God's glory is my heart's desire. I know this may seem like a long, drawn out thought process of a sunrise, but it quieted my heart and caused me to rejoice in the cross. I think that's worth it!
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