I’ve always been an early riser, up well before the sun. Often in those early hours I take my morning coffee to the front porch swing, especially as fall throttles back the summer heat and yesterday’s warmth becomes today’s chilly morning. When the temperature drops, I bundle against the cold pre-dawn air, breathe in my coffee and listen to the gentle creak of the swing swaying back and forth. As temperature dips lower and lower I wrap up in a quilt. If it weren’t for the protective cover of darkness, I’d feel foolish—but there’s no one to see me and comfort wins over fashion.
I gratefully discover that God also begins His day early. The deep silence of rural Ohio at five o’clock in the morning proves inspirational and my devotional thoughts come as crisp as the air.
This morning, I hear rumbling. The earliest scouts of light are creeping across the eastern sky—producing ever-changing moments that cause the trees to first appear as black silhouettes against the deep, reddish-brown dawn. A low-lying stratum of fog hovers just above the corn field between me and the sound.
Squinting into the darkness, I recognize the outline of two dump trucks lumbering along a distant road, stopping approximately about a half mile from my vantage point high on a hill. They turn off their lights and sit with engines idling. I make the obvious assumption that they are the first of a road-repair crew.
Sure enough, within minutes a backhoe lumbers onto the scene. As daylight turns up its wattage, I can see the drivers have huddled in the middle of the road. In the silence of the early morning, I’m amazed to hear the workers conversation as though they were standing beside me. Even at that great distance, across a field of corn, the sound of their idling engines acts as a carrier for their quiet conversation. They’re speaking at a normal level, yet I can clearly understand every word they say. It was as though they were standing on my porch.
Laughter rises as they banter about the poor sap who got stuck with the “old truck.” The conditions are obviously just right; their conversation comes to me like a radio broadcast. It sort of freaks me out, but then I settle into the anonymity of eavesdropping on people who have no idea every word they are speaking is being heard by someone so far away.
That experience causes me to reflect on my own conversations. I wonder how often the things I say and do are carried into the very presence of others, often without my awareness. Does it really matter what I say or do when I think no one is listening or watching? I think we all know the answer to that question: Of course it does!
Today’s wisdom begs the question. It suggests that we are free agents and as adults we are free to do or say whatever we like. However godly wisdom begs us to speak and act responsibly. I’m concerned that we’ve slipped into a selfish mode that is too much about personal freedoms and too little about personal responsibility. I believe what we do today sows into the lives of those who follow us. We are sowing the next generation… what we say and do—even when others may not be watching—is vital.
The Apostle Paul gave the same advice to a group of churches he helped establish:
“Go out into the world uncorrupted, a breath of fresh air in this squalid and polluted society. Provide people with a glimpse of good living and of the living God. Carry the light-giving Message into the night so I’ll have good cause to be proud of you on the day that Christ returns. You’ll be living proof that I didn’t go to all this work for nothing. Philippians 2: 15-16 The Message
Read Ron’s column, Simple Faith, each Saturday on the Faith Page (page 3) of the Lancaster Eagle Gazette, or visit www.lancastereaglegazette.com.