As my family’s time of sheltering passes the two-month mark, I feel like I have developed a permanent case of déjà vu.  Every morning starts – ala Groundhog Day – with a voice chattering in my head something like, “Okay, camper, rise and shine!”  (Truth be told, it’s really more like a groan.  Not much shining involved.)

The problem, I realize, is that we are living without a future.  Without a clear path ahead, we are relegated to the here and now.  There are no dinners out.  No visiting of grandchildren.  No breaks in the routine.

It’s today.  Then tomorrow’s today.  And on and on.

But here comes Isaiah with encouragement in a simple metaphor: the dew.

            Your dead shall live; their bodies shall rise.
                      You who dwell in the dust, awake and sing for joy!
            For your dew is a dew of light,
                      and the earth will give birth to the dead. (Isaiah 26:19)

Dew is a reminder of the daily, life-giving blessings of the Lord.  It’s a lesson taught to the Israelites through manna, that appeared with the dew, and lasted only for a day.  It’s the lessons Jesus gave to his disciples, teaching them to pray, “Give us this day our daily bread.”

And in between, it’s the teaching/prayer of Jeremiah:

            The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;
                       his mercies never come to an end;
            they are new every morning;
                      great is your faithfulness. (Lamentations 3:22–23)

This is a powerful truth.  When we live in the now of the grace and goodness of the Lord, each day becomes a renewal of the relationship.  Our sins forgiven.  His love affirmed.  Our dependence on him reestablished.

It takes me multiple tries to capture the shining beads of moisture on the grass this morning.  The dew is not only life-giving, but incredibly beautiful.  Jewel-like.  I need this reminder, that each day holds treasures – new opportunities to explore the love of Jesus as he and I walk through a lifetime of todays.

And as Isaiah’s connection to the resurrection reminds me, this is training for eternity.  For when there are no delineated days, life becomes an endless string of moments of exploration, of celebration, of new realization of God’s goodness.

Now is a good time to learn this lesson.

To learn how to live in the now.

Your dew, Lord, is the dew of light.  Each dawn brings us a new opportunity to explore your love.  We thank and praise you for the immediacy of your love.  For mercies that are renewed every morning.  Teach us how to live with you today.

Reader:  How are you learning to live in the now?

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