When Monday Begins with Stillness: A Sunrise Reflection from Hunting Island

When Monday Begins with Stillness:

A Sunrise Reflection from Hunting Island 

At Fripp Island in May 2020, I honestly dreaded going home.

I had been enjoying one of my happiest places on the planet, where the rush of normal life seemed to loosen its grip for a little while. The ocean has a way of doing that for me. I walked along the beach as if Jesus Himself were walking beside me in the crash of the waves. The salt air, the open shoreline, and the steady rhythm of the water helped my soul breathe again.

But vacation was ending, and the routine was waiting.

Like many people during that season, Lisa and I were exhausted from the uncertainty, restrictions, and emotional weight of the COVID-19 pandemic. People processed that season in different ways, and I know some families carried deep grief, fear, and loss. For us, by May 2020, we were weary from the constant tension and ready for some space to breathe. Restaurants and stores were beginning to open again, and we decided to take a needed vacation with my family on Fripp Island, South Carolina.

At the same time, everything in my world was about to change.

Lisa was about seven months pregnant with Annabelle, who was expected to arrive in late August. I was preparing to begin a Ph.D. program in Communication at the University of Tennessee. That opportunity meant we would soon move to Knoxville, Tennessee, where I had received a full scholarship and assistantship to pay for my graduate studies, including four years of tuition and a small monthly stipend.

It was a generous offer I did not want to waste.

But it also meant three major life changes were coming at once. We were moving to a new city. I was starting a new academic job and a four-year commitment to doctoral studies. And I was becoming a father for the first time.

Those were exciting blessings, but they were also heavy responsibilities. While going to the beach provided some relief from the upcoming stress, I still regretted going home. I knew I would eventually have to face all these changes head on. I was not feeling especially motivated to make all of it happen. I wanted life to slow down long enough for the pace of my thoughts to slow down too.

So, before beginning the long drive home, I decided to wake up early and visit Hunting Island State Park, the next island down from Fripp Island. Lisa rode home with my parents that day, which gave me some needed time alone. I set my alarm for 5:15 a.m. so I could arrive in time to watch the sunrise around 6:40 a.m.

Hunting Island is known for the lighthouse that stands beautifully in the middle of the island. As far as I know, it is the only publicly climbable lighthouse in South Carolina. One of my favorite memories there is climbing those 167 steps with my Grandmother Cartee. Even in her older years, she did not give up. Step by step, she kept going until she reached the top. That memory still reminds me of her strength, determination, and quiet joy.

But on this particular morning, I was not there to climb. I was there to be still.

In Mark 6:31, Jesus tells His disciples, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” That specific part of this Bible verse felt personal on the beach that morning because I was not only stepping away from a vacation. I was stepping away, even briefly, from the weight of everything waiting for me at home: fatherhood, a move to Knoxville, doctoral studies, financial responsibility, and a future I could not yet fully picture. Jesus understood that even faithful people need moments of quiet retreat. He knew the soul sometimes needs a place apart where the noise settles, the body breathes, and the heart remembers that God is already present before the next responsibility begins.

Stillness is not always easy for me. My mind can race ahead to the next responsibility, the next task, the next deadline, or the next concern. But as the sun began to rise over Hunting Island, everything seemed to slow down.

The sky gradually shifted from darkness to color. The breeze moved gently across the water. The waves crashed with a steady rhythm that felt older and stronger than my worries. For those few minutes, I was reminded that the world does not depend on my constant motion. God was already present before my day began. His creation was already singing before I said a word.

I am not naturally a morning person, but I was grateful I made time to breathe that day.

After the sunrise, I sat on the beach for about ninety minutes, praying, journaling, and letting my spirit settle. I did not solve every problem. I did not suddenly feel excited about returning to routine. But something inside me became quieter. The dread did not disappear all at once, but it loosened. Gratitude began to make room where anxiety had been sitting.

That is one of the gifts of breathtaking scenery. It reminds us that life is larger than our calendars. A sunrise does not erase responsibility, but it can help us carry responsibility with a renewed heart. Stillness does not remove every burden, but it reminds us that we do not carry those burdens alone.

After leaving Hunting Island, I stopped in Bluffton, South Carolina. Bluffton has its own centeredness and quiet charm, especially compared to larger coastal cities like Charleston and Savannah. I walked through local parks and along the water. I visited art galleries and appreciated the talents of local artists. I ate lunch at a quaint restaurant with affordable seafood and let the day unfold slowly.

Eventually, I headed home.

By the time I arrived, I was tired from the long drive, but I was also peaceful. I was greeted by my beautiful wife, grateful for my family, and ready to rest. Annabelle had not yet arrived, but her arrival was close. Our family was about to change forever. Knoxville was waiting. A Ph.D. program was waiting. Fatherhood was waiting. Responsibility was waiting. But so was grace.

The next morning was Monday.

Normally, Monday can feel like a return to the grind. It can feel like the end of freedom and the beginning of obligation. But that Monday felt different. I had watched the sun rise. I had prayed beside the waves. I had walked through quiet places. I had remembered that God meets us not only in church pews and sacred songs, but also on beaches, in breezes, on boardwalks, and along coastal roads when the soul needs room to breathe.

Maybe Mondays are not always as bad as we think.

Maybe they can become invitations…

An invitation to begin again…an invitation to carry gratitude into the routine…an invitation to remember that peace is not limited to vacation. God can meet us in the breathtaking scenery of a sunrise, but He can also walk with us into the emails, meetings, school responsibilities, dishes, deadlines, decisions, and ordinary tasks waiting at home.

That morning on Hunting Island reminded me that stillness prepares the soul for the next step. Sometimes, before we return to the routine, we need to pause long enough to notice the grace already around us.

And sometimes, Monday begins better when Sunday ends with gratitude.

 

#WhenMondayBeginsWithStillness #Mark631 #HuntingIsland #FrippIsland #ChristianReflection #SoulRest #FaithAndStillness #GodInTheOrdinary #GratitudeAndGrace #PeaceInTheRoutine 

When God Stops The Game: Small Acts With A Big Impact

On my birthday, something small and unexpected happened that made me pause and reflect. I was at Starbucks, ready to buy myself a treat, when someone ahead of me paid for my drink. It was just a cup of coffee, but in that moment, it felt like a personal gift from God—a small reminder of His presence in my everyday life. I whispered a prayer of thanks, touched by the gesture, not just because of the free drink, but because it was a reminder that God is constantly showing up in the little things, speaking to us through acts of kindness that might seem insignificant at first glance.

Not long after, I experienced a moment that was anything but small—my Ph.D. hooding ceremony. The journey to that stage was long and challenging, filled with late nights, countless hours of work, and the delicate balance of raising two young children. It was a path paved with perseverance and a commitment to the end goal, and as I stood there on that stage, the sense of accomplishment was overwhelming. But what struck me most wasn't just the achievement itself; it was the incredible support I received from my friends and family.

Many of them traveled great distances to be there with me on that special day. For some, attending the ceremony might have been just another event on their calendar, but for me, their presence was a powerful display of God’s love and faithfulness. Each person’s presence felt like a small light, illuminating the path that God had laid out for me, reminding me that I was never alone in my journey. These people represented more than just friends and family; they were tangible reminders of the support system God had built around me, a network of love that has carried me through both the small moments of daily life and the monumental milestones.

These experiences, both the small and the significant, made me reflect on how God, our Heavenly Father, works in our lives. He delights in both the small and large blessings, showing up in ways we might not always expect. Just like a father who finds joy in the smallest achievements of his children, God takes pleasure in our lives—not just in the big moments, but in every moment. He is the light that guides our way, the support that lifts us when we’re weary, and the constant presence that assures us we are never alone.

This brings me to a powerful analogy: imagine being at the Olympics, where the men’s basketball Dream Team competes for the gold medal. Jesus, the star point guard, is leading the charge, effortlessly guiding the team to victory. The crowd roars. The game is intense, and yet, in the midst of it all, Jesus notices you in the stands. He sees you, and despite the importance of the game, He stops everything. He points to you on the Jumbotron, walks off the court, and comes right up to you. Then, He asks you to join His team, to be part of the championship game.

This is how God sees us. In a world where there are countless people and countless things that could demand His attention, He chooses to focus on you and me. He delights in choosing us, not because of what we’ve done, but because of who we are—His beloved children. He invites us into His work, into His victories, both big and small. He wants us to be part of His team, not as spectators, but as participants in His grand plan.

So, whether it’s through a free cup of coffee on a birthday, the support of loved ones at a graduation, or the countless other small blessings that fill our days, God is always present, always reaching out, and always inviting us to join Him. He’s the Father who delights in us, who pursues us with love and grace, and who invites us into His victory.

The next time something small and seemingly insignificant happens, pause for a moment. Say a prayer of thanks, and remember that God is speaking to you through that act. Just like Jesus stopping the game to pick you for His Dream Team, God’s love is present in the big moments, yes, but it’s also woven into the fabric of our everyday lives, in the small, quiet, and sometimes unnoticed gestures that touch our hearts. He’s calling you, inviting you, and delighting in you. Now I must ask this one paramount question - will you join Jesus as a member of His Dream Team? He is waiting for you to join the game we call life.

My children consistently remind me of these small moments with profound simple blessings. Enjoy these latest moments from my very own Dream Team at home!

(Lisa and I pose with our Paw Patrol masks for Jace’s second birthday party.)

(Jace continually wants to drink from a plastic water bottle like a regular adult. He often spills water in his attempts.)

(During naps, Jace regularly snuggles with the Nessie stuffed animal that I bought him in Scotland this summer at Loch Ness.)

 (While on vacation, Lisa and my family enjoyed the scenic views of Cincinnati, Ohio atop the roof at New Riff Distillery.)   

(The view from Eden Park Overlook in Cincinnati provides some amazing panoramic vantage points of the Ohio River and northern Kentucky.)

(While on vacation in Cincinnati this summer, Annabelle and I pose for a picture in the middle of an aquarium at the Newport Aquarium.)  

(Lisa and Annabelle posed in front of the Museum City Center in Cincinnati, where the Children’s Museum is located.)

(While in Cincinnati, Jace enjoyed being held by his Uncle Joseph, Lisa’s brother.) 

(I have been working on Annabelle’s active listening skills when she does not listen to Daddy.) 

(I recently attended the Sister Hazel concert with my father, Jim, Jr., at the Bijou Theater in Knoxville, Tennessee. It was an excellent show!)

  

(Annabelle and Jace regularly try on Lisa’s shoes and walk around our apartment.)

(Jace rode Clifford at Chuck-E-Cheese. We took Annabelle to the restaurant for her fourth birthday in August.)

(Lisa and I took Annabelle to see Despicable 4 at a theater in Knoxville that has an incredible arcade and two-story slide. Annabelle loves both the games and going down the slide.)

(I surprised Jace with a new ball and a stuffed Luigi, a character from the Super Mario Brothers game and movie. I won both prizes from claw machines at the previously mentioned theater arcade.)

(Jace often plays with the Little Tikes car on our patio and sidewalk outside of our apartment.)

#GodInTheDetails #FaithEveryDay #DivineEncounters #SmallActsBigImpact #GodsBlessings #LifeWithFaith