The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork…Psalm 19:1
Running is such an incredible discipline because you can do it at virtually any time of day or night. Of course, some hours are perceivably safer than others, but still, it doesn’t require a team, a field, special equipment, or other limiting factors.
As I’ve gone through various seasons of life, the timing of my routine runs has shifted based on life circumstances. When I was young with available daytime, I enjoyed getting out in the sunshine. In my college years, I’d join up with a running buddy sometimes at night in below-freezing weather, occasionally returning with icicles on my eyelashes! Did you know that’s possible?! And into adulthood, I’ve found the early morning is the best time to fit this practice into my routine.
Over time, I’ve discovered I have a most worshipful time of day to run: starting before the sun has made its ascent and then finishing as it is getting ready to break the horizon. The way God displays the routine cycles from night to day, season by season, is so stabilizing.
Every morning it’s mostly the same with a few surprises here and there. On a cloudless night, stars are sprinkling the black sky. The moon hangs delicately in position, following its routine waxing and waning phases, reflecting varying degrees of light to the earth in its predictable cycles. The air is cooler than it will be later, which, for summertime in the Carolinas, is a full reason to get out early. I slowly shuffle and bounce my way into looser muscles and navigate through the dark guided by a narrow strip of light thanks to my headlamp.
The solitude presents an opportunity to think and to hear the early morning creatures. Crickets are the predominant melody but are soon joined by, what I’m guessing based on a Google search, are swamp cicadas, rising for the day. At a corner of my run, the nocturnal whippoorwill says his goodnights as the sun rises and he retires with the moon. They all sing in a chorus, sending messages to their species. The sound of my rhythmic huffing and puffing join in with all of them.
As I come around from the first loop of my run, I catch a glimpse of what I’ve been waiting for. The night sky is welcoming in a softer, brighter tone. Black gives way to shades of blue. The trees become as the night sky were, their black silhouettes chiseling an outline against the horizon. The stars seemingly disappear, and that welcomed hint of light is pushing its way upward, making my headlamp less necessary.
By the time I make my second loop, more signs of life are appearing. Lights in houses are turning on, cars and trucks are exiting from driveways, and diurnal birds are warming up their voices with morning song. Watch dogs prove worthy to their masters, and I pick up my pace past their houses.
And then I catch sight of that more-glorious-than-before picture as I approach home: hues of pink, orange, and purple highlight the horizon. Soon those colors will fade and the blue will return, making the forest green leaves contrast so radiantly against the backdrop of Carolina blue (I swallow my NC State allegiance and confess that Carolina blue is indeed quite brilliant).
Every time I experience this symphony of sound, color, and rhythm, I think, “Wow, God. There you go again.”
The intersection of night and day: It’s all just a breathtaking experience for me.
While all of these things are awe-inspiring in and of themselves, I stand in greater awe of the one who put on this grand display to witness.
Have you ever known an artist? Maybe you are one. My mother was a remarkable fiber artist. I have an appreciation of her masterpieces, but when I look at them, I don’t think merely of the art. I think of her. And we know a music artist, as well. Anytime I hear his music, I am drawn to a deeper level of appreciation knowing some of the backstory of life experience that God has used to shape and influence music to glorify Him.
Nature offers the same experience. Not one of us can claim the glory in these animals, sounds, and sights we get to encounter. If we worship the creation itself, we are missing the key element of the artwork: the artist, the one who skillfully set it all in motion. The grandeur lies in the Creator.
When is the last time you sought solitude in God’s creation? Can you carve out regular time to sit even briefly and listen to the melodies and harmonies of his handiwork’s chorus? Feel the sensations? Smell the sweetness? Wonder at the majesty? It’s all a masterpiece of his creativity.
Colossians 1:16-17
“For by Him, all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through Him and for Him. And He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.”
Written in the summer of 2024.
Worship Opportunities 