by Lee Hull Moses
I walked my daughter to school today, which isn’t our normal routine; usually, she hops on the bus. It was Bike to School Day, actually, but as is so often with these constantly growing children, we don’t have quite the right size equipment. She’s already passed on her smaller bike to her brother and we haven’t gotten around to finding a replacement yet. So, we walked.
It was a pretty morning, warmer than it has been, and fresh from last night’s rain. She and I chatted all the way there, about school, about her friends, about how we really need to make time to go bike shopping this weekend. I left her in front of the school and turned to head home. It was a quieter walk, without anyone to talk to. The sun, which had been up for awhile by this point (oh, the glory of these long sunlight-filled late spring days!), had just peeked above the tree line, burning off the dew on the grass and the fog from the rain.
That sun, it gets me every time. The constancy of it, the complete assurance that the sun will break the horizon each morning and light our sky.
In the midst of unsettling political news and a whole host of other hard things, it is a comfort to me that we are not the first of God’s people to have lived in turbulent times, not the first to grapple with brokenness and grief. From everlasting to everlasting, the Psalmist prays, you are God. That sun has lit our sky for eons before we got here and will go on shining long after we’re gone. The vastness of the universe, the wideness of God’s love for us, is remarkable to me.
Last night at Table Topics, we had a long and engaging conversation about religious freedom and what it means to be a citizen in a country where we don’t all have to practice the same faith tradition. Today, the Vintage Bunch is getting ready for a lunch program about caring for one another through grief. Last Sunday, we wrapped up our Sunday night youth program, and this Sunday, we’ll recognize our high school graduates who are heading off to college.
Maybe this is what it means to practice resurrection: making our way through this life, with conversation partners and people to depend on, marking milestones and sharing the stories of Jesus, all while trusting that the sun will keep coming up, trusting in the everlasting love of God.