And What If The Sun Didn't Rise?

It's a corner of the neighborhood that I don't spend much time in.
Some folk endure worst case scenario whether or not it is an accurate reflection of reality. (It usually isn't.)

You know, "what if...?"

Well, I'm going to step out of character momentarily, and ask you to dwell on a what if for a moment. Really go there.

What if the sun didn't rise tomorrow?




I know, I know. But enter in with me. I have a reason.

You keep looking at your watch, your computer, every clock in the house, for they surely must be wrong. But hours tick by and the stars don't move. The moon doesn't seem to move either. Truth be told, the earth has stopped spinning.
Oh, and panic strikes. And crime spikes. And governments crack down to try to control fear so deep it abolishes reason. But their fears run deep too, and they can't help themselves, much less their citizens. Power plants churn out the megawatts at max capacity, to fuel a world which is accustomed to sleeping at night. And people sit huddled in their houses, trying to get cable. But every satellite in the heavens kept spinning when we stopped. So there's no telecom. Every flight in the air, and every ship in the sea wanders till there's no fuel to wander farther. Because there's no GPS either.
After a week, those who have survived fear's urges to self-destruction start counting the days until the sun will rise. --In six months, when we get around to the other side of the sun.
Oh, but we'll never get there. It's already so cold. So cold. The middle of this night is becoming like a wind-swept antarctic. Every green leaf is withering, and with it a planet's life-giving supply of oxygen. We'll run out of air, and then freeze white through, before the sun shines again.

What if the sun didn't rise tomorrow?

Those in eternal noon fare little better. Over there it's oh, so hot. They can breathe this steamy atmosphere, but they are broiling alive. And the steamy part will only last so long...

Stop there.

I take it for granted that the sun will rise tomorrow. And I don't have the foggiest idea of all that would ensue if it didn't. I live in full confidence of the fact.

The sun will rise. That's what matters.

And something else will happen too, something even more certain.
In the morning when you rise, God will be awake, waiting for you to stir.

He always is.

But let me ask you another question.

What if He wasn't there tomorrow?

I'm not even going to go there. That apocalypse would make my above description seem like yogurt for breakfast. Utterly routine.

He's always there. That's what matters.

But wait, really? 
Is that really all that matters?

We rise and run into our day, shoot something that is supposed to be gratitude His way, while taking Him utterly for granted.

Perhaps partly because we've never stopped to consider what would be, if He disappeared.

If some morning He failed to knock on your heart's door when you woke up, would you even miss Him?
Or did you skip Him this morning anyway, so it wouldn't make a difference?

And what did you say would happen if the sun didn't rise...?


He's there. He's promised always to be.
Always reaching His beautiful hand towards a stirring creation.

So, one more question:

Am I?