After my quiet time with God this morning, I grabbed my coffee cup and headed to the computer. As I was responding to emails and messages, my heart became heavy–heavy with thoughts of broken relationships, compassion for cancer diagnoses among friends and recollections of personal failures. Within a short amount of time, I was getting discouraged.
As I was feeling this dark cloud settle around my shoulders, something caught my attention outside the window. Our kitten had climbed up on the railing outside the window, and his orange coat was bathed in a rosy glow. I got up and walked over to the window, and was captivated by a brilliant sunrise–one that seemed to stretch along the entire horizon and shoot its brilliant pinks, golds, purples and oranges up to almost touch the fading moon. It was breathtaking!
I grabbed my camera, knowing that any photo I could take would not do it justice, and ran outside. I climbed up the ladder into the kids’ tree house and breathed deeply of the chilly morning air. I drank in the view while taking a few pictures, amazed by the goodness of God.
Walking back to the house, with our kitten curled up in my arms, I was moved almost to tears. In Lamentations 3, God tells us that his mercies–or compassion–are new every morning. He sees every hurt I experience and feels it much more deeply than I ever could. He knows my aches and pains, my doubts and fears, my weaknesses and insecurities better than anyone, and He loves me in spite of them. He does not call me to perfection; He calls me to repentance. He exhorts me to not live in the despair of my brokenness but to look to the glory of His Son, Jesus, who mends the broken-hearted and brings freedom to those who are trapped by their failures.
No matter how much we are hurting, God sees and shares our pain.
Then, He offers us a sunrise.