Sunsets and Perspective

Most of my life, I've had a fascination with sunsets. I think everyone has some degree of respect and awe when a beautiful display of color is filling up the skies, but for some reason I've gathered that my level of respect and awe is slightly more than others. When I catch a good one, which is sometimes hard living in a city, it almost paralyzes me - I have to stop and stare, taking in the whole 360 view, which also involves lots of oohing and aahing.

On our road trip to Kansas for Christmas, I was watching a particularly captivating sunset as we were driving, and I had an "AH HA!" moment. A moment where I realized why I and others desire to view the sun slipping into the horizon, why people purposely build their back porches (and place their rocking chairs) facing the west, and why research shows that watching sunsets can reduce your stress levels.

Sunsets are like a "reset" button. They occur everyday, give or take a few hours depending on the season, but they ALWAYS happen. Though not always as visible or beautiful each time, it's like a regular reminder of the daily routine, the season, the changes, the earth's and star's rhythm that keeps us moving. Just think - what would it be like without a sunset everyday? I think we would all freak out! Something inherent in our human clock would be missing. I know I would start to feel very insecure and unsafe - if the sunset isn't there, then who's really in charge? There's a reason the Bible speaks of God's love and faithfulness "as surely as the sun rises."

If sunrises remind us it's a new day, sunsets help us calm down, recognize the pattern and rhythm of life, and appreciate the day we just lived. By starting into the horizon at something honestly few of us really understand (why so many reds and purples and oranges?), we simultaneously gain perspective on who we are as humans, but also that there is something bigger than us going on. As much as we like to be in control, sometimes it's comforting to know someone else is in control and has a bigger idea of who we are and what we're doing on the earth.

Sunsets remind me to slow down and appreciate the world I live in. I hope the next time you see a sunset, you're able to do the same.

(taken at Cedar Hill State Park near Dallas, Texas)

Hope

What is the point of hope, anyways? It's pretty fun for awhile, while you're waiting for something, expecting big things to happen, but somewhat either naive or confident that the event/thing will actually occur. When you're younger, you tend to be a little more naive of the realities of the world, so hope is an easy thing. The world is before you - anything can happen! As I've gotten older, I've realized it's harder for me to hope. Gotta stay practical. What if it doesn't happen? You've been burned before.

When I want to hope in something but all the input I'm getting is "reality statements" instead of faith, it becomes very difficult to get excited and expectant for what's to come. To protect myself, I set the bar really low.... as in, it won't happen so what's my plan B? I get more excited about the plan B because it seems safer. It seems more secure.

What if hope's purpose was to prepare us to receive what was to come?

Think back to when you were young and naive - what was going through your mind when you hoped for something? You dreamt about what it was going to be like when it happened - the joy, the excitement, the fun. You imagined various scenarios in your head, drew a idyllic picture of the outcome, and imagined what life would be like after it happened. When it did actually happen, even if not the same way you imagined, you still had joy! You had spent so many months preparing for it and thinking about it, there was something that had to come out! All that time preparing and thinking and planning had to be released in joy and excitement.

But the first time it doesn't happen, and I mean, goes completely wrong and different from what you imagined, you begin to grow up. You mature a little because your view of the world is wider and sadder. Your heart literally sinks. You get burned. Did I misunderstand what hope was about? Why did I even think that could be a thing? What made me think that would happen?

When I found out I was pregnant, I was shocked. Not joy-shocked, the kind where you're like what?! this is great! I had no idea! But the kind where I didn't know what to do. The home pregnancy tests came in a package of two, so I drank a bunch of water and waited again to go pee. Positive, again. I called my gynecologist's office immediately:

I need to make an appointment.
What is it for?
Well, I just took a home pregnancy test and want to make sure it was right.
Well, we usually trust the home tests. The OB usually will see you when you're about 8 weeks.
But how do I know if I'm really pregnant?
Well, I guess I can order a blood test, and we'll go from there. 

On our way to a camping trip out of state, the phone call came that yes, I was pregnant and can we schedule you for your first sonogram and OB visit? On the trip, I was reflecting one morning and had to repent for not believing God could be big enough to allow me to conceive. I realized in such a powerful way that my lack of HOPE had prevented me from fully receiving and rejoicing in the gift of pregnancy. I didn't really think it was going to happen; I had even begun setting my heart on adoption and/or foster care because it was the "safer" option for my heart.

Going forward, I'm so grateful for the gift of hope. It prepares us for what's to come. It's rooted in his promises, and allows our hearts to remain expectant without having expectations that may not happen. An expectant heart is one that's ready; and I've found it's so much MORE rewarding to hope than to expect the mediocre.

This sermon by Danny Silk on Expectancy (from Bethel) was really helpful in my journey to realizing what hope really was. If you have 45 minutes, please listen to it!

https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/bethel-church-sermon-week/id76583739?mt=2&i=320040961