Morning Has Broken

Yesterday morning, I sat in the front pew of our sanctuary, scribbling in my journal while the worship team practiced on the platform. Now and then I'd glance up and swap smiles and eyebrow raises with Ryan...and then back to journaling I'd go.
 
During one of my forward glances, I caught the fiery glow of the sun crashing through the stained glass window behind the organ. I love it when the sun bursts through that window, reminding me of His presence right there with us. Worship songs washed over me and I sat in prayer, savoring the moments.

Church began and I sat alone in my pew while Ryan and the praise team sang...and after the first couple of songs, I noticed Ryan was still holding the microphone. He began to speak and I thought, Well that's a nice surprise. I didn't know he was doing the call to worship today.

He talked about our story and how so many of you here on the blog have left comments about how it's given you a measure of hope. He talked about how on Mid-Morning this year, we're focusing on the theme of how God writes our story...and how we all have a story.

And then he talked about a little song...one I've written about before here and here. Josh Wilson's song Before the Morning. He talked about how it had ministered to both of us in our respective places of hurt.

And then he sang it. 

I had no idea. I had no clue he was singing a special in church and that it would be just for me - was...well...it was the first time anyone has done that for me before. 

I sat in my pew, squeezed my eyes shut to hold back tears, and listened to him...and I remembered the day I first heard it.

Memorial Day weekend, 2010, while I was in the car with my friend Rachel, driving back home after a strawberry shortcake at Ivanhoe's. My desert was in full swing and I could barely breathe. I knew when she dropped me off at home, I was stuck there for three long, torturous days. Most of my friends had left town for the holiday and Isaac, the one man I loved more than anything, had planned to introduce me to his family that weekend, but instead he told me he wasn't ready, and I should stay home.

So I did. I stayed home and felt the searing pain of his rejection...his decision to hide me from his family...and I had little hope in my heart that the words of Josh's song were true. That I would ever forget the pain and that morning would ever come. And in that relationship, morning never did come. Isaac walked away, and I thought I'd never be loved again. But then God brought Ryan...

...And yesterday morning I sat in a pew, not only hearing the words of the song, but hearing them from the lips of my own husband specifically dedicated to me in front of an entire congregation of people. God's redemption of my pain showed up yet again...taking away the shame of being hidden and replaced with the healing of being publicly acknowledged and chosen.

Maybe you're where I was on Memorial Day weekend, 2010. Maybe you're wondering if the pain that you've been feeling could possibly be the hurt before the healing. If healing really will ever come.

Sweet friend, it really is the dark before the morning.

And when morning comes - in whatever way it comes for you - and your story will look different from ours -

It will be two things.

Unmistakable

and

Magnificent.