Sacred Rhythms of Light
From dawn to dusk
These are the words we use to describe the reality of day beginning and day ending, marked by the activity of light. We see light peak over the horizon at dawn. Light recedes away at dusk. The most fundamental rhythm of our lives is the movement of light. Or, to be more scientifically accurate, our movement around the light is the basic tenet of sustained life.
How deeply unsettling it was this week for those of us in the CA Bay Area to have this foundation altered as we awoke to darkness on Wednesday! I realize that plenty of people in the world live hours of their days in darkness for significant parts of the year. Other times, they experience little to no darkness at all! But, I suppose that becomes a rhythm in itself. You mark light by seasons, not days. For those of us who are used to a “dawn to dusk” kind of day, to not see sun in the morning throws everything off. There is a constant feeling one carries of something being fundamentally wrong with time.
We need light to mark the rhythm of our days. It not only sustains our planet, but it works a kind of magic into our very bodies, penetrating us with vitamin D and lifting our moods. The pattern of our lives is ordered by light. Many of us work while the sun is out and we rest when the sun goes down. This gives us predictability, routine and order, resulting in a sense of security.
If you know anything about children, you know that they thrive in order and routine. This is because they feel safe within limits and in knowing what to expect. Adults are the very much the same! We need rhythms we can count on in order to feel secure. When those predictable, foundational patterns are altered, it can throw us severely off kilter.
The whole world has been challenged to find new rhythms since the pandemic hit like a force of wind last spring. Suddenly the most basic building blocks of our lives were thrown into disarray; health, work and school severely altered. Even our most fundamental needs for affection and human connection were banned. We struggled with normal expectations in an abnormal new world. In our best moments, we found new routines and rhythms. We embraced the good that could come from the changes: better effects on our planet, more time with our children, rest and appreciation for our homes. In our worst moments? We struggled to survive.
For me, after six months of abnormal, one day with an orange sky was enough. It made me seriously consider a move to a more livable locale! But, I breathed in relief to see sun yesterday morning, peeking through a hazy sky. I felt something lift inside because I need to know that there will be light in the morning. I need to know that I will sit in the sun again.
I’m reminding myself that even if we don’t see the sun, we can still know the earth is revolving around it. The planet is on its course even if what is happening on earth feels like a roller coaster ride. I find hopeful parallels for my faith in this reality. Even if I do not see what God is doing, I know that He IS working out a kingdom purpose. This is true even when everything seems very, very out of control. The sun’s day in/day out glowing and waning is a picture of this assurance. Psalm 46:1-3 says,
God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in times of trouble.
Therefore we will not fear,
though the earth is transformed
and the mountains are toppled
into the depths of the seas,
though their waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake in the surge.
Even in the surge, let us find the rhythms that we are able to continue. Let’s find a way to let light in, even if it is temporarily shining an orange glow through a haze of smoke. Let the presence of light be the hopeful reminder of God Our Refuge.