As we walked to the bus stop, they asked the usual big kid questions (how, why, when) concerning the tiny droplets of water covering our lawn and everybody else’s. I reached way back to retrieve a solid explanation from my science teaching days. The word condensation left my lips (or was it precipitation?) with the same amount of grace I muster up each time I try to fold a fitted sheet into a neat square stack.
After completely confusing them, I finally said, “Guys, I’m not really sure. Dew just happens overnight, when we’re all fast asleep.” We moved onto a new topic, but I was aware of the sense that they had settled.
We all knew I hadn’t really answered the question.
When dew shows up the very next morning in Psalm 110, I prepare myself for a better explanation of the early morning mystery. I record verse 3 in my journal, a little confused yet trusting I’m on the verge of something sacred.
Your people will offer themselves freely on the day of your power, in holy garments; from the womb of the morning, the dew of your youth will be yours. Psalm 110:3 ESV
Psalm 110 depicts God the Father speaking to God the Son. I learn that it is one of the most cited passages in the New Testament. Yet, in my bible (the one I’ve read for the past seven years) not one verse is underlined. The margin where I normally scribble illegible notes to myself is completely blank.
I settle in, curious as to how these very words quoted by Paul, the gospel authors, and even Jesus Himself could have slipped through my grasp. How could I have missed this? Matthew Henry explains that the dew of your youth “is a numerous, illustrious, hopeful show of young people flocking to Christ, which would be to the world as dew to the ground, to make it fruitful.”
Dew is refreshing, but also purposefully mysterious.
I start thinking of my oldest girl’s tender heart, how she leans in to drink the things of God. A couple months ago, she claimed Jesus as her Lord and Savior. Her King and Priest, as this passage also declares.
When we went to meet with sweet Miss Maggie, her Children’s Minister, I panicked when I realized I never wrote down the date of her life-changing decision. It was summer, or had school started? I couldn’t remember. The conversations spread out over days, months even. This giving her heart to Jesus was a long time coming. It occurred in the hiddenness of her own heart prompted by her own seven-year-old prayer.
As we sat there with Miss Maggie in October—everything got pushed back a bit thanks to Hurricane Harvey—I started to categorize this as another “mom-fail.” Then ever-so-gently, God assured my momma heart that my girls’ decision to follow Him stretches far beyond a single day, a single moment, a single prayer.
He’s been pursuing her heart for her whole entire life. This, too, is a phenomenon like the morning dew; it’s hard to pin down a certain date, a certain starting place, a certain measurable quantity. God knows the exact moment she handed Him her heart.
The hiddenness defines the beauty.
Eugene Peterson, in his book As Kingfishers Catch Fire, connects the phrase from the womb of morning to Mary’s womb delivering Jesus, the fulfillment of God’s covenant and refreshment of hearts. Gorgeous if you stoop low enough to notice, yet much easier to miss. Peterson relates the spectacular, dominating metaphors of royal king and holy priest to something altogether unexpected: the early morning birth of a baby who came to save the world.
Like dew, we celebrate His arrival every December, marvel at His beauty, share in His glorious refreshment. It suits Jesus to use an overlooked metaphor. Most days we walk right by unless we’re paying close attention. But those of us who dare to lean in a little get a sacred glimpse of His power and righteousness in this tangible phenomenon that greets us morning by morning.
On the soggiest winter morning, this brave girl of ours was baptized by her daddy in front of all her family and friends.
Outside under heavy fog and in full view of the glistening dew, she got to show everyone she loves that she now belongs to Jesus.
Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 19:14 ESV
Jesus loves you,