Morning is darker than night.
As we awake, we arrive yet again into an unsatisfying world. A world of eternal finality- perpetual death. The fantastic escape afforded us by our dreams has come to a violent end. We are still here. Here to face the pain and anxiety of life once again. Every morning we fall. Every morning is Fall.
“Vanity of vanities. All is vanity…There is nothing new under the sun.”
This morning we have killed Christ. The world that flows from Him has denied Him. We have denied our heart beat. We have denied our life blood. We have crucified our very humanity. We are falling. We have fallen.
The morning is darker than night.
There are some however who arrive at this cold morning with hopeful eyes. Dark and meaningless as it may be, they will offer it all to God. With their weak voices, they thank Him for this gift. And not after they’ve allowed the day to dull their anxiety- no, but already as they awake in the morning.
As the world falls, they rise- and not alone but with all in sight. These are the rebels. These are the priests. For God will respond, not with sentiment, but with the very presence of His very Son- the new creation. In whom darkness is made light. In whom words, bodies, and time regain their meaning. In whom the morning becomes new beginning.
It is here, in morning prayer that we rebel against the vacuous hole of existence. It is here that we, the priests, offer all of this broken world to God in thanksgiving. It is here that Christ speaks to and through us,
“Behold, I make all things new.”