For the past week or so, the planet Venus has been a welcome companion on my early morning runs. The chilly temperatures and clear skies have made for an array of constellations and stars splashed on the dark canopy of the fall sky in the hour or so before dawn. Just above the southeast horizon Venus shines as the brightest of all the lights. Mercury, Mars, and Jupiter are visible, as well, but Venus shouts its bright light the loudest of all. Apparently, she will reach her greatest brilliance at the end of the month. I will keep watching.

The astronomers are quick to remind us that Venus is a planet, not a star, her light only a reflection of the sun’s light. But for millennia those who have endured long and sleepless cold nights, perhaps away from the warmth of hearth and home, have known Venus as she rises to be the morning star, even the bright morning star. That bright light just before dawn has been seen as a promise of good to come. The psalmist wrote, “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.” (Psalm 30:5)

As I run along, then, the pre-dawn sky is a reminder of the Creator’s love of beauty and the wonders of what he has made. But more than that, the bright light in the eastern sky is a reminder that the same God who created the heavens and the earth cares for us. Darkness and cold will not have the last word. Joy comes with the morning by the promise of the one who commands the sun to rise.

In the last book of the Bible, Jesus promises those who remain faithful in Thyatira that he will give them the morning star (Revelation 2:28). Revelation closes with Jesus’ last “I am” statement when he reveals himself to be the bright morning star (Revelation 22:16). To those who remain faithful, Jesus gives himself.

One early morning this week, wispy clouds hung over the eastern horizon. Soon enough they would be gilded with the morning’s light, but as I ran in those last minutes of the night, Venus hid by the clouds and then shining through them, I thought of the clouds that sometimes hang over our lives. Even when those clouds grow thick and obscure the bright morning star, he is there. Though we cannot see God, his promise to never leave us nor forsake us is sure.

The astronomers say I can expect to see Venus as the morning star well into December. Scripture promises that the Bright Morning Star will be with us even until joy dawns on that final morning.

You may have read one of the many stories from the past week concerning the “endless cruise” on the high seas that has come to an abrupt and unhappy end. As I understand it, the MV Odyssey was a cruise ship that had been converted into something like a floating condominium development. Though there were many financing options, the basic plan allowed “owners” to buy a cabin for $300,000-$500,000. Buyers were told the cabin was theirs for life and depending on the plan, they paid some sort of monthly fee for meals and staff services and the like, and the ship sailed from port to port. Among the 500 or so passengers were many retirees and a few distance-workers. Having set sail from Belfast, Northern Ireland, in October 2024, the ship had fulfilled the first two years of its endless cruise promise. But then it literally ran out gas.

Blaming the high price of oil, the ship’s management says its business model no longer works and the ship is being repossessed by its mortgage holder.

The ship had made it to a port city in southern Cambodia when the fuel gauge hit E. The residents were given seven hours to pack up and disembark. From there they were on their own. Some have booked flights home and others are holed up in local hotels trying to decide what to do next. Whatever they decide, it seems that the endless cruise has come to an end.

It’s a sad story, but one wonders if there wasn’t a “too good to be true” element to the scheme from the beginning (if you had $15 million sitting around, a three-bedroom apartment on the MS World might have been a safer investment). Continue reading →

Psalm 89:11–12

The heavens are yours; the earth also is yours;
the world and all that is in it, you have founded them.
The north and the south, you have created them.

Becky and I spent a few days at the end of last week on the shore of Lake Michigan with our daughter and her family. It was a glorious time! We drank of the beauty of the earth and rested in the joy of human love – parent, grandparent, sisters, children, and grandchildren.

Cornelius Plantinga, Jr. defines sin and its consequences as “not the way it is supposed to be.”  Those 48 hours on Lake Michigan in the glory of God’s creation and with the gift of family were a reminder of how things are supposed to be and how things someday will be.

The photos offer a glimpse of our experience – walking with family beneath a canopy of leaves splashed with the yellows and oranges of October, climbing a towering dune to look across this fifth largest lake in the world, one of the wonders of the created order. Belonging and beauty, serenity and sanctuary. The way it is supposed to be.

It was good to be away. Continue reading →

The first frost warning of the season came last week, and, sure enough, as we headed for church on Sunday, the front lawn was covered by a coat of icy crystals. With colder mornings headed our way, I’ve pulled out my long sleeve running shirt and my leggings along with a pair of warm gloves for my pre-dawn jogs. I will add another layer of clothing for the cold mornings of January, but this will do for now.

In fact, my winter weather gear is more for my comfort than for protection from anything too dangerous. My gloves keep my fingers from getting numb, but there is certainly no threat of something so severe as frost bite. When the morning temperatures drop to the mid-teens or below, I simply stay inside and sip coffee by a warm fire.

While I may not be an arctic explorer, I do appreciate the way a merino wool shirt and those cheap Amazon leggings keep my arms and legs warm on a frost-warning morning run.  Numb fingers are no fun, and the gloves do their job. Continue reading →

In the 26 years I have been posting Friday thoughts in one form or another, I am pretty sure this is the first time I have written about a roadkill. For everything there is a season…

I noticed the carcass at the side of the county road as I was making my way from our house into town. But it wasn’t the usual racoon or opossum. Its black fur with a white stripe gave it away immediately. “Poor Pepé Le Pew,” I thought as I drove by, and for a few seconds did not think much more about it.

Then it hit. 50 yards or so from the scene of the crime, that unmistakable aroma hit my nostrils, even though the car windows were up. In another 100 yards the stench receded. The roadkill’s olfactory assault had been far worse than its visual assault. Continue reading →