“Sun’s awake?” This is a question that we used to hear often in the Smith household. For a while, my daughter would wake up well before dawn and assume that the day had begun. After all, if she was awake then everyone else should be awake, too!
As it happened, this phase of my daughter’s early wakefulness coincided with the birth of my son, which meant that my wife and I were already sleep deprived. Needless to say, my daughter’s early morning wake-up calls weren’t exactly helpful to our rest or sanity. So we taught her that nighttime is for sleeping and daytime is for playing, a supposition that led to that all important question: “Sun’s awake?” If so, it was time for everyone to get up. If not, it was time to go back to sleep. Most often, this question bought exhausted parents a few extra minutes of sleep because the sun had not yet risen. For the followers of Jesus, though, the same question should have the opposite effect. For in Christ we believe that the sun is indeed awake, which means that we his people should be awake as well.
Of course, when we talk about the sunrise in Christ, we move into the realm of metaphor. We speak here of the sunrise of redemption breaking forth on a broken world. This is the moment when the “new heaven and new earth” of Revelation 21 take shape, when brokenness gives way to wholeness, when God dwells perfectly with his people, and when there is no longer any mourning, crying, death, or pain. This is the object of Christian hope, and we wait for it expectantly.
But how can we say that the sun is already awake? The new heaven and new earth are certainly a worthy and compelling hope for the future, but how can we say that the sun of redemption is rising over a world that is so obviously broken? We hear of natural disasters and moral disasters on a regular basis, and it so often seems that we are cloaked in the deep dark of an unfriendly night. This broken darkness makes us long for that beautiful, future work of God already described, but can the sun really be awake now, in this pervasive darkness?
In a word, yes. Notice Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 5:17: “If anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old is gone, the new is here!” This is a sweeping statement that speaks not of future hope but of present experience. It is also a statement that, when teamed with passages like Revelation 21, yields an important insight: New creation is the object of Christian hope and the content of Christian experience. Somehow that promised new creation has become present to Christ’s people in the here and now.
But how can this be? Resurrection is the key. In Christ’s resurrection new creation has sprung forth. Death has been defeated and the rebellious powers of this world have been put on notice. Our resurrected Lord now reigns victorious, and we wait with expectation for the day there when the victory won at the empty tomb will be made whole and complete! The goodness of this total victory, the fullness and totality of new creation, has now become the hoped-for inheritance of Christ’s people, and by our connection to the risen Christ and through the work of the Holy Spirit within us, we experience its beginnings even today.
New creation has begun, but it is not yet complete. Theologians call this the “already/not yet” dimension of God’s work in Christ. We already experience it, but we have not yet experienced its fullness. Thus, we Christians find ourselves at the moment of twilight. The sun itself is still just below the horizon, but its light has begun to mingle with the darkness. The light is present, but the darkness has not yet been dispersed. We are a people caught in that moment between night and day.
Which makes my daughter’s question an important one. How should we live in this in-between moment? Well, if the sun is awake, as we believe it is, then we should act like it. Though we exist in a moment when darkness still covers the land, we are to live according to the light that has become present to us in Christ. We are to follow Jesus in the power of the Spirit, knowing that this unfriendly night must eventually succumb to the full, unyielding light of day.
“Sun’s awake, daddy?” Yes, sweetheart, it is. And that makes all the difference.