Longing hard to meet the sun
I ran eastward with the morn
I passed it by
and stopped with night to mourn.
Yet in my wait the light returned
and with it came the sun
I stood, I watched,
I closed my eyes
I rested from my run.
Instead the sun met me that day
it didn’t need my work
I could neither speed
the turning of the earth.
The clouds obscure its harshest rays
the wind steals off its heat
still the sun
it’s not by chance we meet.
The trees reach toward the sun in sky
The flower turns its face
Only I can hide
I choose what I embrace.
Each day its light shines down on me
no need to stretch or frown
it stays above me, guards me,
until it goes back down.
For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith
—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—
not by works, so that no one can boast. -Ephesians 2:8-9
Can you identify with the narrator in this poem, who tries so hard to reach God but finds God reaching out to him/her instead? Do you see the faithfulness and consistency of God in it? Let me know what you think in the comments below!