Person | Wayfarer

I wait for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.
Psalm 130:6 (NIV)

I have, in other blog posts, chronicled my adventures in sleeplessness. From childhood I’ve been a morning person. It’s in my DNA, I’m afraid. Especially in the depths of the winter, as we are in now, my day usually begins in the deep dark before dawn.

As a child, I would hate the early mornings as I lay in bed or sat in a dark house and waited. I waited for the light of dawn or the light in the bathroom which signaled that my dad was up and it was okay for me to be up too. As a kid, I hated sleeping over with friends, most of whom liked to sleep in. It meant I would wake up early in a strange house and have to wait hours for my friend to get up. As I got older and became the father of little ones, I began to relish my early morning hours of quiet before the house began to stir. I have embraced my early mornings as productive and peaceful on a number of levels.

As I read the lyrics of Psalm 130 this morning, I ran across the verse above which has become very familiar and even dear to me in recent years. It is used in praying the hours (a.k.a. The Divine Offices), which I often do, especially The Office of Dawn. There is even The Prayer of the Night Watch, which are prayers offered between 1:30 and 4:30 a.m.

As a morning person, I feel a deep resonance with the wait for dawn. It is more than longing and desire. It is both the anticipation and expectation of what is to come. As persons of faith, the assurance of what we hope for and evidence of that which we do not see is a key ingredient in our day-to-day life journey. The physical and temporal is embodied in the instant gratification of our appetites and the blunt realities of our senses. That which is eternal and of the Spirit is generally realized at the end of the faithful, expectant, long watch of the night when eucatastrophe dawns and rends the unsuspecting darkness.

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When Israel came out of Egypt,
Jacob from a people of foreign tongue,
Judah became God’s sanctuary,
Israel his dominion.
Psalm 114:1-2 (NIV)

There are sometimes life events which, for good or for ill, help define who we are and give us a sense of identity. I’ve seen it happen in families, in which a young child dies or a parent commits suicide and the family system shifts to ceaselessly revolve around that tragic event. I’ve seen it happen with sports teams, in which a team like the Boston Red Sox live under the “curse of the Babe” for almost a century, and my beloved Cubs continue to languish under the curse of the Billy Goat and tragedy of the Bartman ball. I’ve seen it happen in cities like my hometown of Des Moines, when the great flood of 1993 created a new sense of community out of a sudden lack of fresh water. I believe that Americans are only beginning to understand how the events of 9/11 and their aftermath have changed and defined us.

For the people of Israel, the defining event was the Exodus when God delivered the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt and led them to the promised land. The story is retold and referenced countless times in the Old Testament by the historians, prophets, and poets. Thousands of years later, it continues to be retold and celebrated by millions of people around the world each Passover.

Today’s psalm is one of many lyric references to this defining event. It was likely written after the time of Solomon when the kingdom was split in two. Notice the reference to both Judah (the southern kingdom) and Israel (the northern kingdom) in the verse above. The song writer uses this common heritage to remind the people of both nations that despite their present political differences, the Exodus unites them in a common bond.

Today, I’m thinking about the events which helped forge my identity and gave definition to the person I have been, am now, and am becoming. What family events, even those from previous generations, affected my family system which influenced that person I became? What happened in my hometown, in my country, or the larger ethnic group from which I came that has impacted me personally and culturally? What would happen if I understood them with greater clarity? Which are worth celebrating? Which should I let pass away?