Good morning, or perhaps good evening, wherever you are in this beautiful, spinning world. It’s October 6th, and I’m diving into day 29 of my 7-40 Challenge, round two. The sun hasn’t yet peeked over the horizon, but I’m already out here, heart pumping from my first workout of the day. The moon hangs bright in the sky, and Orion, one of my favorite constellations, gazes down at me. There’s a stillness, a quiet magic in this moment, and I want to share it with you.
Let me confess something: I not naturally a morning person. Oh no, the snooze button and I were old friends. In my younger years, I’d set the loudest alarm I could find, place it across the room to force myself out of bed, and still—still—I’d hit snooze, shuffle back under the covers, and repeat the cycle. One time, I even had an alarm that sounded like a bullhorn. Imagine drifting through a peaceful dream only to be jolted awake by what felt like a drill instructor screaming in your ear. It was jarring, to say the least.
But as I’ve grown older, I’ve made peace with the alarm clock. Like most of us, I have to get up, go to work, and show up for life’s demands. Yet, somewhere along the way, I’ve come to cherish these early hours. There’s something sacred about the world before it wakes up, before the noise and busyness take over. It’s in these quiet moments that I find rhythm, clarity, and connection—to God, to myself, and to the awe-inspiring creation around me.
This morning, as I stepped outside, the cool air brushed against my skin, and I heard the gentle whisper of the breeze moving through the trees. They swayed softly under the glow of a streetlamp, their leaves dancing in the pre-dawn light. I looked up, and there they were: stars scattered across the sky like diamonds, twinkling with a quiet brilliance. And then, as I lingered, I spotted those steady, unshaking lights—not stars, but planets, millions of miles away, whirling through space yet appearing so still, so present, as if they were placed there just for me to marvel at.
C.S. Lewis once wrote, “I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.” That’s what these mornings feel like—a chance to see the world illuminated by something greater. The heavens, as the Psalmist declares, truly “proclaim the glory of God” (Psalm 19:1). In the quiet, under the vastness of the sky, I’m reminded of a God who loves us, who crafted this universe with such precision and beauty. It’s humbling. It’s grounding. It fills me with gratitude to be alive, to be here, in this moment.
John Eldredge, in his book Wild at Heart, says, “Deep in his heart, every man longs for a battle to fight, an adventure to live, and a beauty to rescue.” For me, these early mornings prepare me for that adventure and the battles of the day that lie ahead. I get to face them with my family and friends by my side. I get to fight for the hearts of those I love. It fills me with purpose. In the stillness, and the moments before the world wakes up I can be still and prepare for the day. It’s in this space that I can reflect on God’s plan for my life, focus on my goals and simply be.
The world is busy, isn’t it? There’s always something vying for our attention—notifications, deadlines, to-do lists. But these quiet moments? They’re a gift. They’re a chance to step away from the chaos and find peace, and to reconnect with the One who made it all. Whether it’s the rustle of leaves, the twinkle of a distant planet, or the simple act of taking a deep breath, these moments remind us that we’re part of something so much bigger.
So, wherever you are today, whatever’s going on in your life, I pray you find your own moment of peace. Step outside, even if just for a minute. Look up at the sky, feel the air, and let yourself be reminded of the beauty around you. I pray you feel God’s love today.
Now, let’s go out and do some good things to start this week. I’ll see you tomorrow for day 30.
David Willis 