Lessons in the Sun

I took an early morning walk along Minnesota's North Shore of Lake Superior this morning. I took the road east, toward the rising sun and the promise of a new day. The air was cool, probably in the low 30s, and there was skim ice on the runoff in the roadside ditches. My hands got cold, making me very thankful I'd grabbed my one sweatshirt with pockets.

Whitetail deer were everywhere this morning. I counted twelve live ones crossing the highway ahead of me within the first mile. There were also a couple that had not made the crossing as successfully. Sad reality where the highway meets the boreal forest.

The sun moved above the horizon out on the Lake while I was still behind the barrier of black spruce that line the south side of the highway. Once I cleared the trees the road ahead disappeared in the fierce orange glow of the newborn sphere. I moved closer to the gravel away from the solid white line that separates the shoulder from the westbound land of US Highway 61. As many times as I've walked this route, I still want to be careful on those mornings when I have to walk staring at my feet because the brilliance of the morning sun makes it too hard to look up for long.

Two ideas worked themselves into my consciousness as I kept cadence with the Cathedral Quartet singing classic convention favorites like "Mansion Over the Hilltop" and "Supper Time." One train went south, the other north. One was negative, the other positive. For a moment I was stuck in neutral in the middle until my brain took in the value of them both.

Speaking from the negative, the sun functioned to my eyes this morning as a great blinding influence preventing me from seeing clearly the beauty and the danger that might have otherwise enhanced my journey. The bright light forced me to cover my eyes in order to cross the highway for my return trip and not wind up like one of the hapless deer upon which the ravens and eagles feed. The sun was more a hindrance than a help, and yet it loomed so large and so bright, that it was only with difficulty and with effort that I could see through its effect and discern the prevailing conditions that would bring me safely home.

So many influences play this same role in our lives. God offers joy, peace, guidance, confidence, reconciliation, transformation, but the things of this world loom large in our personal vision and make it difficult to discern the good God has for us, the good that will lead us safely home. We have to make a concerted effort to see past the bright lights of power, wealth, control, anger, jealousy, selfishness, greed, lust, and a host of other offerings that blind us from the truth.

This is the call we get from the inspired author of Hebrews when he writes, "Therefore, holy brothers, you who share in the heavenly calling, consider Jesus, the apostle and high priest of our confession" (Hebrews 3:1, ESV). The word "consider" ("fix your thoughts on" in the NIV) means to scrutinize something in order to apprehend its purpose or meaning. It is a word for focus, for concentration, for comprehension that pierces the fog and finds clarity and certainty. It is a call to a vital, intentional, active faith that is neither casual nor haphazard, but deliberate and productive.

This is faith that thrives on God's word. This is faith that grows in prayer and meditation. This is faith that worships and serves, and discovers for itself (and for those who possess it) the fullness of God's glory in Christ through the working of the Holy Spirit.

This was one train of thought. It took the sun as a negative influence. The other train of thought took the opposite approach: the sun as a positive influence in my morning revelry. You see, there are still piles of snow along the roadway, black and dirty from an overlong season of salt and sand and road grime not yet washed away by the rains of spring. There are the lingering evidences of unfortunate meetings between modern automobiles and woodland creatures. There are decaying trees, broken from a devastating ice storm weeks ago. There are accumulations of winter trash awaiting a storm tide to sweep the beaches clean. There is much that is ugly, unbecoming. There is woundedness and betrayal. The sun hid it all.

With the newly risen sun in my eyes, no matter where I looked I could only see the sun. It was easy to see, easy to focus upon, easy to follow. All I had to do was look where the sun was and all the decrepit remains of a fallen world vanished in the brightness of the glow. My face was warmed and my heart charmed by this dear friend I had missed through all the long nights of winter. I felt as though I could look up and sing. And I would have had I not been so out of breath.

Here too is the message of Hebrews: "Consider Jesus." Focus on the Son. Let all else pale in comparison to the worthiness and value of Jesus Christ the exalted Son of God enthroned in the heavens and superior to angels. Our sorrows pass away into shadows, our difficulties to shades when we fix our eyes on Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith. The hymnist put it like this, "Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in his wonderful face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of his glory and grace."

Either interpretation leads us to Jesus, and that is as it should be. The heavens declare the glory of God. The sun declares the Son! May we see him as he wishes to be seen.