Stumbling into Sunrise

I set my alarm for 7:15, full of good intentions. I’ll be in the field in time to see the sunrise, I thought.

Fast forward to this morning: me, stumbling out the door, a woolly hat with a pom-pom pulled hastily over my messy hair, my face still carrying the imprint of my pillow. -5°C. Why did I think this was a good idea?

But then—deep, warm red spilling over the horizon, like embers reigniting the sky. The kind of red that makes you forget the cold for a second.

Back home, hands wrapped around a steaming latte, I posted some photos on Insta. Found a Spurgeon quote to match—he has a way with words about nature.

Maybe someone will enjoy it. Maybe just me. Either way, the sun rose. ☀️✨

📖 "But to you who fear My name, the Sun of Righteousness shall arise with healing in His wings; and you shall go out and leap like calves from the stall."
— Malachi 4:2 

🌞 You cannot be too low, you cannot be too unworthy; the infinite mercy of God, like the infinite light of the sun, can reach you.

🌑 "Alas, I am dark." But what night was ever too dark for the sun to turn into day?
❄️ "Alas, I am cold." But what iceberg was ever too cold for the sun to melt? What winter was ever too severe for the sun to transform into summer?

🔥 Yield yourself, you icicle, yield to the sun, and it will melt you. 🌿 Yield yourself, you dead and withered branch, to that dear sunbeam waiting to kiss you now, and it will awaken life within you and warm you until you are laden with rich fruit, to the praise and glory of the Sun of Righteousness, who has risen upon you.

🙏 May the Lord grant that it be so with us all, for Jesus' sake. Amen.

Source: The Rising Sun, Charles Haddon Spurgeon

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Do you ever wake up early to watch the sunrise? ☀️ Here, the sun rose at 7:45 this morning!

Spring is Coming, Even If I Can't See It Yet

You can’t just bike away the grief of living loss. That’s impossible. But I decided, after my conversation with the psychologist, to do something enjoyable to take my mind off all the heavy things. “Why not go to the botanical garden?” my husband suggested. I thought that was a great idea, so I hopped on my bike for a 20-kilometer ride to Wageningen.

Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart. - Victor Hugo

Oh, how peaceful it was in the garden. And that sun! Slowly, I walked along the sandy (and occasionally muddy) paths. I snapped pictures of the magnolia and cherry trees, full of buds. No leaves on the branches, just bare trees, but then, to my surprise, I spotted a small camellia bush in full bloom. What a delightful surprise! 

I walked closer, took some photos, and soaked in everything around me. There’s so much beauty to discover in winter. Even a cute robin taking a mud bath right on my path. I could barely contain my smile.

After about half an hour, I decided to take a break on a bench and enjoy a cup of coffee from the thermos I brought. I sat here last year too—I remember it well because I wrote in my journal then (and I did again now).

I now wrote: “I am sure it’s going to be beautiful. The garden will bloom again. I saw hundreds of buds on the trees, and the camellia is already blooming! Spring is coming. I expect, I hope. It’s going to be great.”

Waiting for Spring... and for God

I pondered the idea of waiting for spring, hoping for a fresh start, for something to finally leave winter behind. And as I stood there, watching the buds glisten in the sun, I thought of God, who promised to make everything new. That new spring, not just in nature, but in our hearts as well. An end to the dark culture where lies are made truth, flowers are trampled, and truth is so hard to find. Spring is coming, even though it isn’t here yet. I expect, I hope. It’s going to be great.

Just as we wait for the spring to arrive, I trust that God, who promises to make all things new, is working behind the scenes for those who wait for Him. As it says in Isaiah 64:4:
"For since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides You, who acts on behalf of those who wait for Him."

I know change is coming. Spring is coming, not just in the garden, but in the culture too. And I wait for my Heavenly Father, who will make all things right, maybe not on my timeline, but someday. And what I know is that it’s worth the wait. Even if it feels like waiting for spring that never seems to arrive.

Just before I left the garden, I saw a tree full of beautiful flowers. I stopped in my tracks, forgetting everything around me, just gazing at it in awe. I picked a low-hanging branch, smelled it. Wow, what an explosion of beauty. Time was running out, though—the sun was almost gone.

I quickly snapped a few photos to show at home.

And then, it was time to leave. As the sun hung like an orange ball above the horizon, I continued on my bike. Come on, just 20 more kilometers.

Goodbye botanical garden, see you next time! Spring is coming, even though it’s not quite here yet. I expect, I hope. It’s going to be great.