“I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.” (Psalm 130:5–6, ESV)
The morning is coldest when the sun first rises.
Part of it is just temperature, the morning hasn't yet been able to soak up the warmth of the sun. But the other part must be deeper than that.
Our longing for the sun’s warmth reaches its peak when the light is glimpsed, but not yet felt. There's the hint of warmth, but the absence of its touch.
Two thousand years ago the sun peaked over the horizon. Rays of hope pierced death’s dark dominion.
Perhaps the chill is most pronounced right now. We've glimpsed the Son but still we wait. Like watchmen for the morning, we long for more than Christmas.
We long for more than the past, we long for the future that He promised.
With groaning hearts, we long for the One who is coming again.
When I finished writing this, I couldn't help but realize that I had been unconsciously inspired by a blog from my sister-in-law, +Erin Ching. You can read her blessing of a post here.