The morning sun comes calling a bit later here because of where we sit in the time zone. But even here in a West Texas version of suburbia, it can be a glorious reminder of the comfort and love of its Creator.
I realize that most of us, Christians included, live in awe of the Grand Gesture – those spectacular moments in time that define a life, a love, a generation. After all, nobody ever made a movie about taking out the trash. And we don’t have to look very far to find that in the Lord. The cross of Jesus will forever stand as God’s Grand Gesture.
But it’s in the daily expressions of faithfulness and regular reminders of His care that God’s love is most personally experienced. If, of course, we take the time to notice. To listen. To watch.
And so this morning, like most mornings, that’s what I’m doing. With the quiet hum of tires on the streets in the background as people make their way to work or school (and an occasional rude interruption from a motorcycle), I’m watching today’s billboard for the love of God come rising over the rooftops.
It will be a busy day today; that’s nothing new. There are classes to teach, papers to grade, a book to write, an office to lease, a lunch appointment.
But first, this. The quiet, faithful reminder that in the flurry of activity, I am loved with an everlasting love.
This, to me, is love for the long haul – not just from God, but between people as well. The grand gestures are, well, grand. But to me it’s the little things – the faithful daily reminders, built up over time – that reflect a “love divine, all loves excelling.”
It’s in the laughter shared with people you love – laughter that has its own unique rhythm and language.
It’s in the gladness of reunion with people who enrich your lives, even if you just saw them yesterday.
It’s in the sharing of burdens as we slog through the tough times together, looking for ways to ease one another’s troubles or multiply one another’s joy just a bit.
It’s in the daily magic of words like “thank you,” “I’m sorry,” or “I’m praying for you.”
It’s in the willingness to be interrupted by a phone call or drop-in visit, to talk about really important things like sports or the sale they’re (always) having at Kirkland’s.
It’s in shared meals, emailed photos, or taking your grandson with you to shop for couches.
It’s in the days of anticipation, washed in wonder and overflowing in praise, knowing that the end of the story is always greater than the beginning.
And it’s in the daily encounters that define your life and world.
If there is anything more spectacular than a West Texas sunrise, it’s the sunsets. There the Sky Painter once again quietly makes a statement. Not the Ultimate Declaration – there’ll probably another one tomorrow like today’s. But as He draws the curtain on this day, He will find a way to quietly say to you and me once again: “Nobody can love you like I do.
And you don’t have to live in the land of Texas Tech and tumbleweeds to experience that.
Has anyone told you lately how loved you are?
I just did.
But He can do it so much better, if you’ll take the time to read the signs.