It is early on an ordinary Monday morning. Will has already left for school and I can hear Bri's alarm. She will be stirring soon.
I grab a cup of coffee, my Bible, devotional, journal and a pen as I head toward the door.The mornings have been perfect for sitting out on the deck for Quiet Time.
It is still dark as I settle in to read this morning, but the porch light casts a warm glow over my left shoulder while the movement of myself and the dogs keep the motion detector light to my right beaming brightly.This morning's reading is from Luke 24: Why do you seek the living One among the dead? He is not here, but He has risen!
As I read the application for today I am distracted by the sound of competing roosters on nearby farms. The one closest to me crows loud and long, then one in the distance responds with a little more urgency and the choir of roosters around these parts begins in full force. I begin to wonder just how many reside on that little piece of land less than a quarter of a mile down the road. There must be two...maybe three...calling from the same general area.
I wonder to myself, does the rooster who is crowing at the exact moment that sun rises win a prize or get some the bragging rights for the day?
About this time, the dogs get still and the motion detector light snaps off. I look up to the skyline above the trees to the West. I can see the slightest change in the midnight blue overhead. I know by instinct that on the other side of the house and beyond all the pine and oak trees, the sun is rising...though I will not be able to see the light before I have to return inside to finish dressing for the day.
The darkness lifting, the roosters crowing...and suddenly, I am nearly overwhelmed by a scene from thousands of years ago that I have only read about. Is this at all similar to the morning in Caiaphas' courtyard when Peter heard the roosters crow and felt the eyes of the Lord turn toward him?
I remember the words from Luke 22:61 & 62: Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: "Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times." And he went outside and wept bitterly.
Easter seems to be taking so long to arrive this year. I don't know if it is the date on the calendar or if participating in Lent has heightened my expectations of the holiday by keeping it fresh in my mind. Perhaps it is the fact that the beautiful spring flowers that I associate with Easter have already bloomed and faded...the daffodils, the wisteria...even the Easter tree itself, the dogwood.
But this morning, as I sit and consider Peter's grief and shame...I know that my Easter wait is nothing compared to his.
I'm a day late...but joining Michelle at Graceful this week for "Hear It On Sunday, Use It On Monday".
4 comments:
And I'm so glad you did join in with this serene and contemplative post about the waiting period. You describe the early morning scene so beautifully, with the roosters crowing and the blue light fading the daylight. And I am quite surprised you can sit outside so early in the morning -- it's not too cold? I need to click over to recall where you live...must be a warmer state than Nebraska is in early April!
Thanks for linking up, Fonda -- wishing you a joyful week!
Ah yes...just saw Texas in your profile...that explains the early morning outside!
This is a great post. I love Peter. Not too long ago, I read _Wild Goose Chase_ by Mark Batterson, and he talked about the passage of scripture where Jesus asks Peter three times if he loves Him. Batterson suggested that Jesus asked Peter 3x in order to recommission him since he had denied Jesus 3x. I had never put the two stories together, before. I'm pretty sure it was Batterson, also, who said there were roosters everywhere at that time and that their crowing must have been a constant reminder to Peter. Good stuff. I love how Peter came back; his story is one of such grace.
Well I didn't get up early this morning but I was awake and I did talk to God but did not really meditate and I didn't study His Word at all. 1 out of 3 for today. I'll try to do more tomorrow. Slowly but surely seems to be my motto lately.
Rita
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