I woke up at 4:30am this morning and debated about whether to set my feet to the floor or roll over. Hubby was already long gone and coffee did sound good. Alright, I submit, get up.
I have to say, it was a lovely experience. It was still dark, the house silent, hot coffee and solitude my company. Now if only my flesh would endeavor to seek this morning treasure daily I suspect my days could be more satisfying and meaningful. Filled with calm and order, lists and smooth completion, scripture and the Spirit.
Instead I often run about my home distracted, chasing my tail, lacking purpose and forgetting to enjoy this calling. I walk by my bible lying on the end table at least a dozen times a day. A wealth of fruit bearing guidance at my finger tips. But there's laundry and dishes and English lessons and dinner and sports and a thousand other things pulling at my attention. I'm continually frustrated, impatient, wishing that at the end of the day I could have something concrete, some tangible evidence to show for my day's effort. Glory seeking.
All the while The Word, which was from the beginning, and was with God and is God sits closed up in the living room neglected. I plan and presume and it sits there. I rush and push and fail and it sits there. I murmur and complain and it sits there. Until finally, with an accumulation of sins I wish were not tangible, I break and cry out with Paul, "What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?" At some point, while I was busy serving my family I stumbled and decided I should be noticed. Somehow while I was serving I made an idol of service. Storing treasure at the wrong temple.
But today I had manna for breakfast. A feast of truth from many generations past. In the quiet dawn I read yet another lesson from that ancient story about those Israelites who never fail to relate to me. I almost felt my soul quicken and stir with nourishment. Oh yes, now I remember. It is not about me. There is no glory to be found in this vessel. This vessel is filled with pride and worse, it leaks. Messy. Fallen. Broken. You would expect this reflection to bring burden but it does not. Rather hope. In my own ambition I am a slave but now I'm lead by irresistible grace. Daily sanctified. I've moved from Egypt to Elim where the water is sweet. And if I can remember that it is "in the morning [I]will see the glory of the Lord, because he has heard [my] grumbling" maybe I'll make progress. If I can bring my weakness to Him early, perhaps it won't take 40 years to journey through this desert. That's sweet. Glorious even.