My Lord, What a Morning

Perhaps it was the dry, windy chill in the air.
Or maybe it was the warmth that came only when the sun's rays hit directly.
Whatever the reason, this morning more than any other morning this week--I might even venture to say this entire summer--has caused me to exclaim in my soul: "My Lord, what a morning!"

I woke today at an hour that I used to call "ungodly" but that most Tolucans would consider quite godly, indeed: 6am.  As I am not a particularly morning person, this was strike one.  Today I awoke to the pleading strains of Sasha's (my cat's) vocal cords, crying out for food or water or some such thing.  I don't know whether I snore or not, but I believe that Sasha is able to tell when I come up briefly from deep sleep in the morning, and she is able to catch me before I go back to sleep.  Either I snore or my breathing changes.  Regardless, she is attuned to my sleep cycles and she was the one who woke me up early on my day off--strike two.  Immediately recognizing the futility of returning to bed, I put on a pot of coffee.  Ah, the first cup of the day.  Base hit.

Energized by a cup of coffee or two, I decided to venture out for a walk.  I stepped outside.  Strike one.  The cold chased me back in, where I almost stayed, but for the motivation of the several tens of pounds I have gained in the last few months.  Resigned, I put on a sweatshirt, stocking cap and light gloves and returned to the brisk, fresh air.  I started walking in the cold.  And the wind.  Pop-up caught on the fly.  You're out.  I had no reason not to turn back right then.

Thankfully, just then I simply quit taking score.  Mindlessly, I walked forward.  Then, I reached the edge of town.  As trees and houses turned to corn and beans, I left the cold shadows of town and hit the sunshine of the open fields.  Or rather, the sunshine hit me.  (Take your base.)

Just then, my mindlessness dissolved, and a phrase bubbled up from my memory.  A hymn came to mind, and--of a sudden--my soul rejoiced within me.  I said to myself: "My Lord, What a Morning."

I didn't have very good reasons, but I had reason enough to be grumpy this morning (it doesn't always take much).  And yet, I was filled--for no particular reason--with joy and contentment.  And I gave thanks to God for the day.  And in my mind I sang the song, "My Lord, What a Morning."

That song is a curious song.  The phrase I kept repeating is one of astonishment and pleasure, but the song itself is about the end times:

"My Lord, what a morning; my Lord, what a morning;
oh, my Lord, what a morning, when the stars begin to fall.
You will hear the trumpet sound, to wake the nations underground
looking to my God's right hand, when the stars begin to fall."  (and so on...)

It is a song about the dread-filled end of the world.  And yet it is a song of hope.  For a morning is just a beginning, and who knows what the day might bring?  I am reminded of a phrase that the Klingons from Star Trek use before they go into battle or start a new venture: "Today is a good day to die."  Now, many might hear this and call it defeatist.  Certainly, the phrase is macabre and grim.  To think of one's death--to think that one might die today--is not usually a pleasant thought.  However, woven throughout the phrase is a healthy and very real zest for life.  There is contentment in the phrase, and even a joy in life, and the strivings that life brings.  I think it is a very Christian phrase, actually.  Since, the day that this world dies may be the day "you will hear the sinner cry," but it is the day that you will also "hear the Christian shout" (verses 2 and 3 of our song).  The day of our death, the day that the world ends--both of these are days of triumph.  How blessed to wake up on those days and say in one's heart: "My Lord, what a morning!"  and "Today is a good day to die!"

Have you ever felt that way?
Have you ever felt an overwhelming sense of joy?
Have you ever felt so passionate about the tasks of life and faith so as to exclaim such phrases?
Have you ever felt like thanking God in your heart out of the blue, for no discernible reason?

Well this morning I realized something.  You won't have anything to feel thankful toward God for, unless you first feel the overwhelming sense of joy, passion and gratitude.

We have it backwards.  We think that simply by receiving something--a gift--we will be inspired to gratitude.  Not true, not true.  Especially, with the gifts that we receive from God on a daily basis.  In repetition, we grow accustomed to the blessings God gives us, and we take them for granted or begin to feel entitled to them.  But this morning, I found that it isn't until you have been inspired by joy--it isn't until you have been inspired by gratitude that you really begin to notice all of the things that God gives.

This morning, I had plenty of reasons to be grumpy--many of which I did not and won't go into here.  But, all of a sudden, a wave of contentment and joy came over me: the Holy Spirit.  Then, and only then, was I able to give thanks for the sun, the brisk air, the ability to walk, the chance to be up in the morning, the opportunity to see and say hi to people around town as I walked, the insects and animals I saw and heard, and all of the countless other little things--each of which are gifts from God.

First  came the prayer: "My Lord, what a morning!"
Then, the whole world looked different, as though the stars fell and were replaced with the face of God.

I pray the Holy Spirit bring you many such days.
Amen.