And why you should get up to see them when you travel
I am not a morning person.
My husband will confirm. I am a grunter after I wake up, responding to any and all attempts at communication with a caveman-esque guttural growl. This makes me an unlikely candidate to be an advocate for sunrises, but I have become a believer in them.
Sunrises are something we often miss. I know I missed six sunrises just this week alone. When I am awake for them, I am usually hustling and bustling to start the day. Travel is unique that way for me, and while I often hustle and bustle while I travel too, I find more opportunities for slowness.
If I had one piece of travel advice for you, it would be to enjoy a sunrise or two in your journeys.
I’ve seen many beautiful sunrises in my travels. Sunrises are the string that connects all the places I’ve been, it seems. From the beaches in Florida to the Mediterranean coast, Santorini’s volcanic cliffs whitewashed with stucco houses to a balcony overlooking the Sea of Galilee. From Mardin’s sand-colored streets to the shore of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. My very favorite sunrises, though, are in Cappadocia, Turkey.
Disney does not have a monopoly on magic, and Cappadocia proves this every morning at sunrise. Hot air balloons deftly accent the beauty of the sun’s grand arrival, dotting the sky over the valleys and fairy chimneys. There’s something especially exciting about throwing on a sweatshirt and tennis shoes to hop in the car these mornings. We drive from our hotel to our favorite spot in the Rose Valley while the sun is still asleep. After about a fifteen-minute hike, we reach the spot on the odd rock formations to throw down our blanket, and sit and marvel as the sun comes up next to those colorful, fiery giants in the sky. People wave at us from the hot air balloon baskets, completely enthralled with the experience of being suspended in the air. God is so big in these moments, and I am so splendidly small.
In many of my travels, it feels as though the Lord wakes me up at seemingly ungodly hours to watch the sunrise. It is in those moments that I discover 5:00 a.m. to be quite the godly hour after all. Perhaps it’s the vulnerability of the morning that allows the Lord to speak to me through sunrises the most. I am most vulnerable and soft before the day begins. This gives God a direct line to my heart, and I am so much more sensitive to his beauty.
I can remember more than once that my eyes have fluttered open while it’s still dark. It’s always to my joy to realize that it’s nearly sunrise. I often will slide silently out of bed, grab my Bible and journal, and find my way out the door to enjoy it. It’s here that I know what David means in the Psalms when he says, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands” (Psalm 19:1 NIV).
In 1 Kings 19, we see Elijah seeking the Lord’s voice.
The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. (1 Kings 19:11–13 NIV)
The sunrise and the stillness of the morning allow me to hear that gentle whisper. Focus on my beauty, they say. And when I do, I know that the Lord is the Great Creator. I know that he will take care of me. I know that he is the best gift giver. He didn’t have to make a sunrise so beautiful, but he did. And it’s through that beauty that I can’t help but worship. His peace transcends, the calm brings rest in him, and I am restored through the reading of a psalm and sitting in his presence.
I really believe travel is just another form of his kindness to us. I feel so incredibly blessed to get to experience God in this way.
If I’ve learned one thing in my years of traveling the world, it’s that God declares his beauty through his creation. People, culture, and places usher me to worship our Creator God. And that’s really why we travel, isn’t it? We want to see these glimpses of God. We want to feel small and know even more fully his bigness. We know without a doubt that the rocks would cry out in worship, because, in a way, they already are.
As I write this, I am sitting in the Frankfurt airport on our way to another adventure for our school’s spring break. We left Ankara this morning earlier than I would have preferred and now have a few hours to sit before our next flight. We travelers know that, in order to get to our various destinations, we must often set our alarms for the middle of the night. On this particular morning’s flight to Frankfurt, that meant seeing the sunrise from the window seat of a Boeing 737. Listening to worship music, I watched the sky turn from dark to different hues of pink and orange, the sun peaking at me over the canopy of clouds below us.
God, you are so beautiful.
In what ways do you experience God through travel? How can you notice God’s beauty today?
