Paulette and I spent this last week in a condo at Ormond Beach.  We stayed safe by eating in and socially distancing.  It still was a wonderful break from sheltering-in-place here in Ocala, because of the beautiful view of the Atlantic Ocean from our balcony. 

            I’m an early riser, so I was able to see the sun rise every morning.  Each was different, but they were all beautiful.  I took so many pictures I was afraid that my cell phone would run out of electrons.  The most moving one occurred on Saturday morning, our last morning there.  The clouds were in the right positions to shape and reflect the sun’s rays which came in colors from pale yellow to the deep, deep orange.  They had a perfectly round gap into which the sun rose to completely fill with its fiery image.  I was in awe.  I happened to glance down at the beach and saw a scattering of people along the shore.  I could see up and down the beach for more than a half-mile in each direction, and since they were all facing the rising sun, they looked like sentinels spaced at one-hundred-yard intervals.  What made them appear to be sentinels is that they all were in almost exactly the same position, the “present arms” position.  This is the position where soldiers at attention hold their weapons vertically in front of them; in this case the weapons were cell phones.

            It’s funny how our minds work; we seem to have no control over the thoughts that come to us.  Just try not thinking about elephants.  While watching one of the most beautiful sunrises I’d ever seen, I found myself thinking about how ever since I was a child I couldn’t remember if the early morning Easter service was called “Sun Rise” or “Son Rise.”

            The second thought that went through my mind was a little more suitable; it was the chorus from one of my favorite hymns, “Let Us Break Bread Together.” 

When I fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun,
O Lord, have mercy on me.

I knew I was too old to fall on my knees (one is replaced and the other needs to be), but I did pray the last line.  It’s a communion hymn, but it was still appropriate, since it was a perfect time to commune with God.  Not only that, but looking up and down the beach I could tell from their poses, that others were sharing my experience.  Some may have called it communing with nature instead of communing with God, but it was still clear that they were concentrating on a very special moment. 

            Please contemplate Malachi 4:2 which says, “But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings.  And you will go out and frolic like well-fed calves.” I won’t be doing any frolicking, but I think the Ormond Beach sunrises did bring a little healing during this all too challenging year.

Please remember: God loves YOU unconditionally.

Jim