“O LORD, in the morning you hear my voice…” (Psalm 5:3)
I wake with weariness and wonder where to find strength for the mountain-sized tasks looming ahead. Feet to the floor, eyes puffy and limbs lethargic, I attempt a feeble beginning. One glance in the mirror, and I am convinced the day will hardly be a pretty one.
Foggy and unfocused, I make my way toward the Lord. At first nibble of his Word I only sense dry cereal and brittle bread. But spooning it in, turning the page, slumped in the chair, looking for more, I keep on. He comes as gentle as the softest swirl of air blowing back my hazy atmosphere. His light slips into the room. Now I take in the table laden with his provisions.
He speaks truth recorded in ages past: “O LORD, in the morning you hear my voice; in the morning I prepare a sacrifice for you and watch” (Psalm 5:3). He serves me sustenance in one succinct phrase, with more at hand besides. “But I, through the abundance of your steadfast love, will enter your house. I will bow down toward your holy temple in the fear of you” (Psalm 5:7).
In the morning, especially this morning, the Lord is keeping his promise. He hears me the way a loving mother catches the distinct cry of her child; the way a shepherd knows the frantic sound of his lamb; the way a loving father bends to lift his fearful child in his protective embrace.
His steadfast love steadies me; his tender concern carries me. His Word is enormous gulps of hope.
I stand to face the day ahead. The Savior has saved me, again.
Elizabeth A Mitchell
Photo Credit:Annie Spratt on Unsplash
When I don’t meet him in the morning it becomes a day of mourning