When the Sun Rises

Tyler Johnson, a pastor In Arizona, said something once that I hope I never forget. He said that we are far more wicked than we could ever believe, but we are far more loved than we could ever dare hope.

When I think about what he said, I think of a sunrise on a barren, war-torn landscape. It's as if you saw something on the news, a tragedy that made you want to cry and yell and ask God why someone would do this. Then your face flashes on the screen. This is not a hardened criminal whose face looks like all the others. It is yours. You have wrought this with your own hands. At that moment, there is horror and disbelief. You're such a great guy. People tell you so! How could this have happened? Surely there's some mistake. Great guys don't do things like this. Not this. Not you.

I remember my moment of horror and disbelief.

It had happened at a birthday party. My birthday party. I was opening presents and reading cards. There was a present from my brother and I opened it. I don't even remember what it was now, maybe a movie. I thanked my mom, who protested that it was my brother's gift. I remember looking at him and saying, Well, it's not really from you because Mom paid for it. It was derisive, condescending, flippant. Looking at my brother now, he's a great gift giver. He's generous and he has good taste. I look back on that moment with horror. He couldn't have been more than 8 years old at the time. I took what he'd given me and deemed it illegitimate. I, in my insensitive, black and white view of the world, told him that he hadn't paid for it, so it was really Mom's gift to me. I did this to the person I would instantly give up my right hand for. I did this to the person that made my last two years of university better just because he was there too. My brothers are two of the people I miss most in Australia. How can we hurt so deeply the people we love best?

The second sort of sunrise is also filled with disbelief, but instead of horror, this disbelief is mingled with awe. Instead of a war-torn landscape, the sun rises on the place that can make you cry with relief and joy and every good feeling you've ever felt. Coming home from the worst day at the office, you're at the last fringe of your rope. You failed to see the email from Bill, which made you late to the impromptu meeting. Dean was upset because your presentation to corporate wasn't up to par, and Mary is still waiting on the monthly report. Did you actually get anything done today? Then you get home. All you want to do is curl up in the fetal position and sleep for a week. When you walk in, the house is silent for a brief moment before it erupts into cheering and laughter. There's your sister and your parents and your best friend. Suddenly you're being serenaded with Happy Birthday and being charged to blow out every last candle. You realize, in the weary haze your life had become, you'd forgotten your own birthday. Then your grandparents are walking in with your aunt and uncle and Dad is telling you how much he loves you. You're at a loss, still a little disoriented. In answer to your puzzled look, your best friend tells you that your parents decided you needed a little extra love this birthday and decided to throw you a party. The transition from being broken, weary and alone to loved, wanted, and celebrated takes a few minutes.

I have had many moments of disbelieving awe. I come to the One who has it all, my arms full of community service certificates, report cards, letters of recommendation, things I think will bring me into His good graces. As I'm alphabetizing my supporting documents, going over my speech, scrambling to fix a stray strand of hair that has become unruly, I see Him. The sun rises. I see that where I am, report cards and letters of recommendation have no place. I see that, defying all logic, His Son has paid for me to come home. There is no need for resumes, He's just glad I'm here. The One who created the lion's roar and the cello's song is glad that I am with Him. Suddenly a great love, the greatest love, washes over my flaws and mistakes. All that I thought He wanted from me has been replaced by one word: LOVE.

There is no room for report cards and letters of recommendation where the Father is. All that matters is, did you come by the name of His Son. Only when you come that way do all of your moments of horror disappear into forgetfulness and the dark places are filled with light. There is no restoration unless the Prodigal comes home. You are far more loved than you could ever dare hope. Just come home.

Hoping you come to the second sunrise,

Little Miss Sunshine