Make mine a double. . . .

"Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, 

   for his compassions never fail. 

They are new every morning; 

   great is your faithfulness." --Lamentations 3:22-23 

Tuesday morning, I experienced a double sunrise. I remember experiencing this once, maybe twice when I was growing up, but had forgotten how much fun it is.

I left my home-away-from-home quite early, around 6:45, headed towards Sugarcreek and a retreat for pastors. (I thought I had ‘em fooled, that I am not really one—but God clued somebody in. I am so grateful. This day, this place has been nothing short of amazing. But I digress.)

I headed out across the open Amish countryside, a little nervous but mostly just looking forward. Sherwood (my car) and I wandered up hills and down, watched patches of fog settle, then lift over open fields. Cattle quietly ruminating, an occasional horse waking early, frisking a bit to shake off the chill of the early morning. Beautiful stuff.

As I turned off Route 89 onto US 30, there it was: the sun, rising lazily out of its sleep, shaking off the cloak of darkness-- a vivid orange ball of fire against the grey sky where dawn meets the night before. It seemed to quiver in anticipation of the day ahead, filled with potential. Truly, for me, a God-moment of splendor and glory.

And at the same time, off to the south was a perfect cross, where contrails from two jet planes intersected. I have always had a keen eye to spot these signs of God’s presence, but it had been a long time since I had noticed one. This one was—special. It stood, unmoving and unmoved, not breaking apart as contrails are wont to do, but remaining neatly cruciform against the morning sky. It followed me (or I followed it) for a good half hour before it finally dissolved into the day.

But while I followed the cross, something unusual happened. The sun apparently got tired and went back to bed, because there it was again, rising lazily out of its sleep, shaking off slumber like a wet dog shakes after a bath. This time it seemed determined. No more hitting snooze. It was time to rise and shine.

Have you figured it out, how I got this double sunrise? I did not realize, I guess, that there are hills around Wooster. After one leaves the flat pastureland along 89, there are hills.

So after I watched the sun climb once, over the flatlands, I watched it do a double-take and rise a second time, sneaking out from behind the hills.

Amazing.

Scripture tells us the Son will rise again. Sure enough. This morning I was witness to God’s testimony of life.