Here Comes the Sun

This morning, the first official day of winter, I watched as the sunrise lit up the cold, gloomy sky over my northeast Ohio neighborhood. Against fading darkness, its brilliance painted the horizon fiery orange and yellow, warming everything in its path with the promise of a new day.

If nature—as ancient Christians believed—is a book revealing the mind of God, this vibrant dawn was broadcasting Christ's coming.

Consider a prophecy about Jesus' first arrival. It was spoken to a newly-born John the Baptist by his father, Zechariah, some 2,000 years ago:

And you, my little son, shall be called the prophet of the glorious God, for you will prepare the way for the Messiah. You will tell his people how to find salvation through forgiveness of their sins. All this will be because the mercy of our God is very tender, and heaven’s dawn is about to break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and death’s shadow, and to guide us to the path of peace (Lk. 1:76-79 TLB).

I love how Zechariah describes Jesus in this passage: “Heaven’s dawn.”

Other translations use “Rising Sun,” or “the Sunrise from on high." One rendering uses "Dayspring," an old, poetic phrase that sounds straight outta Shakespeare.

And what exactly will this Dayspring—this Rising Sun—actually do?

He’ll “give light to those who sit in darkness and death’s shadow,” and “guide us to the path of peace."

Let that sink in.

Light that conquers spiritual darkness and physical death. Guidance and instruction that brings about peace. My goodness! Who wouldn't want that?

And did you catch heaven's motivation behind it all?

Tender mercy. Deep-seated, compassionate affection, and undeserving kindness.

For years, I thought of Jesus as an impersonal "plan of salvation," or some type of get-out-of-hell card. But when I ponder him as "heaven's dawn" bringing indescribably beautiful, mercy-motivated gifts, my heart is stirred deeply with hope and longing.

Can it be true? Is this Messiah real? Does he freely give these things?

Perhaps that’s why I couldn't stop watching this morning’s sunrise. It was a reminder of what I have personally experienced in the past through this indwelling Christ.

It was also an invitation to draw near to Jesus in the present, allowing the daily government of my life to "rest on his shoulders." (Is. 9:6)

And finally, the sunrise was a reminder to look forward to the Day when Christ splits the sky and returns in fullness. (2 Thes. 1:7)

No matter how dark, cold, or hopeless life feels, Christ is the Rising Sun sent to you because of God’s tender mercy. He is Light and Life itself (Jn. 1:4).

He is also the blazing center and gravitational pull that, if you're willing, will heal and align every desire flung out-of-orbit within your soul. "But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its rays..." (Mal. 4:2).

This Christmas season and throughout the New Year, may the light of Christ's presence dawn in your heart, progressively rising to its noontime brightness. (Num. 6:25; Prov. 4:18)

A prayer—Heavenly Father, thank you for your tender mercy by which you've sent Jesus. I need His living, rising presence more and more in my life. Come Lord. Dispel darkness and cause the light of your presence to shine more brightly in and through me.

Illustration by Lydia Tarleton

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