Devotions Archive Archive: 1999 | 2000 | 2001 | 2002 | 2003 | 2004 | 2005 | 2006 | 2007 | 2008 | 2009 | 2010 | 2011 | 2012 | 2013 | 2014 | 2015 | 2016 | 2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020 | 2021 | 2022 | 2023 | 2024 Search Archive Print This Article Hark! My lover here he comes Friday, December 21, 2018 From Song of Solomon 2 ... Hark! My lover - here he comes springing across the mountains, leaping across the hills! Shout for joy, O daughter Zion! - From Zephaniah 3 Give thanks to the Lord! Sing to him a new song with shouts of gladness. - From Psalm 33 How does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? At the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed are you who believed! - From Luke 1 Our chickens have settled in for the winter. By 4:30 or so they are wandering less than aimlessly around the door of their coop. By 5 pm all eight of them have perched on their roosting bar, very close together, prepared for the next long winter's nap. Their days grow longer after the winter solstice, 4:22 pm today in Urbana. Tomorrow they gain one second of sunlight. And by June 20, their 9½ hour days will stretch to 15. They will wander the wilds of our back yard until nearly 9 pm. These numbers kind of blow my mind, because all of them apply to us as well. On these December evenings I am sleepy sooner. In the afternoon my body insists on a nap. The sun rises after 7, and my body is in no hurry to catch it. Hibernation calls out to all of us. Or would, if we listened. But the lights stay on, and the screens stay lit, and the sounds of all the world constantly clamor to be heard. I flip my switch, press my home button, and there is no end to anything. Some of us remember the Star Spangled Banner at midnight, when TV programming ended. And in the morning it came on again, 6 AM sharp, short devotion from a local pastor and then bang! The world is once again in our living room. But at least for a short time, we all slept. There are a few of us who remember no screens. Maybe a radio, with all those vacuum tubes and static, to listen to together now and then. Read the paper in the morning. But we can't go home again. Those days were those days. At the least we live nearby constant sights and sounds, and mostly we are smack in their midst. The winter solstice passes by unnoticed by everything except our bodies. Which really do need more rest in the winter. I wonder how chickens would be different if they had their own screens and endless light. They haven't asked for cell phones or video games so far this year. They seem to be ok with what they have. But I could be wrong. I'm no chicken, after all. Lord, today let me sit in silence and watch the night arrive. Welcome, womb of night. And after a fine, long sleep, be with me when I awake, and sit again while morning comes. Welcome to the sun, welcome to the longer day, welcome to the light. Be near me, Lord Jesus ... "; Add      Edit    Delete