Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed. (Mark 1:35)

I am convinced that Jesus was a morning person. I am most certainly not. If you ask my roommates, they will tell you that I get up every morning at the very last possible minute. I have been a freshman here at Bethel College for almost half a semester, and already I've been *slightly* late to two of my morning classes. What's terrible about it is I really have no room to complain. They're not even that early. Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays I have to be in class at 9:00, Tuesdays and Thursdays I don't have to be anywhere till 9:30. My friend Rachel is going to be a nurse. Her classes are early. That alone would be enough to convince me to find another major.

Matthew 21 records Jesus traveling early in the morning and for Heavens sake, even the resurrection was early in the morning! I'm sorry, if that had been me, I'd be in there until at least 11:00. If that wasn't enough, John records that after the resurrection, Jesus showed up on the shore while a group of his disciples went fishing. Yes, Jesus was a morning person, and as much as I long to be like Him, I am not. I can think of only one time I've gotten up early by choice, and that was no ordinary morning.

It was September 1, 2002. I wasnt sure if I'd slept at all the night before. In fact, I probably hadn't slept, and I know I hadn't eaten. I didnt want to. That was the single longest night of my life. You see, the day before, one of my best friends had died in a drowning accident. So, early in the morning, while it was still dark, I got up, left the cabin and went off to a solitary place, where I prayed. I walked back through the woods to the campfire site. I can't count the number of times I'd walked that path before, but somehow, in this familiar place, I felt out of place. It was at the camp I'd gone to every summer and every Labor Day weekend my entire childhood. There among the trees at daybreak, the only sounds I could hear were my own footsteps and labored breathing as I tried not to cry anymore. It wasnt of much use. Right there, right then, it was just God and I - me and my Father. Somehow, though the pain did not yet diminish, I was given a measure of peace.

Through my experience, I began to understand why Jesus got up early to spend time with His Father. When nobody else is up yet, there is a unique, almost foreign silence. I learned that going to pray in a solitary place is an indescribable opportunity to meet with the God, creator and sustainer of the universe. When I make time for Him alone, I open myself and allow Him to become my own personal sustainer, as well. I heard a new sound. More footsteps - not mine. When Jesus went out in the early morning to pray, Peter and some of his companions went to look for Him. They told Him that the people were looking for Him and He should get back to them. He said He had somewhere else to go. He didnt want to stay in one place for too long so He could reach as many people as possible. I can't help but wonder, if His disciples hadnt gone to find Him, how long He would have stayed there, hanging out with His Dad. When I went out early in the morning to pray, my sister came looking for me. She told me that I should come to breakfast, but I set my mind about getting home to my friends. They needed me, and I needed them too. Jackie gave me a hug, I thanked God for my sister, and we walked back together.