If We Only Get to Jesus

“I like to sit on the porch with a cup of coffee and have my ‘private time,'” Glen told me when I asked him about his morning routine. I’ve respected Glen, a retired farmer, and admired his walk with the Lord since I met him years ago. His homespun wisdom has guided me through many a decision, so I wanted to know how he starts a typical day. 

I’m often curious about people’s morning routines, and when I know someone well enough, I don’t mind asking. I’m often enlightened when I listen to how others begin their day. 

I first learned the importance of how to begin the day from Brian Tracy, the motivational speaker and self-development author, who calls the first sixty minutes of the day “the golden hour” because it serves as the rudder for the rest of the day. And, of course, our life is but a series of days. Tracy taught me, years ago, the danger of bolting into the day without thinking about where I’m going and, even more importantly, not knowing why I’m doing what I am doing. The proverb reminds us that “enthusiasm without knowledge is no good; haste makes mistakes” (Proverbs 19:2).

The answer to the question, “Why?” is crucial. It keeps one from climbing the “ladder of success” only to find upon arrival that the ladder is leaning against the wrong wall. The danger lies in being successful in things that don’t matter. 

So, years ago, I determined to “get to Jesus” early and do my best to stay as close to him as I could through the day. I’ll be the first to admit I’ve not always achieved that. If you were to watch me, you would see me stumble more times than I care to admit. But my Lord has been gracious to me and has always doubled back to pick me up, brush me off, and retake my hand, empowering me to keep a steady pace alongside him. (And yes, at times, he has to carr me.)

Matthew, one of Jesus’ disciples, told the story of the synagogue leader whose daughter had just died. He came to Jesus, hoping beyond hope, trusting Jesus for the impossible. Jesus followed the man to his daughter, and on the way, a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years came up behind Jesus and touched his garment, believing that if she could only touch Jesus’ cloak, healing power would gravitate from Jesus to her. “At once,” the Scripture says, “the woman was made well” (Matthew 9:22). Then Jesus arrived at the synagogue ruler’s house where funeral music was already playing, and women were keeping the casserole dishes warm. Where had Dad been? He had gotten up early to get to Jesus, who, upon arriving, dispersed the unbelieving crowd and brought the little girl back from the dead. Unbelievable? That’s why it’s called a miracle. 

And then Matthew has a note, one little sentence that’s easy to read past. It’s like an unobtrusive postscript: “The report of this miracle swept through the entire countryside” (Matthew 9:26). 

I don’t know exactly how the synagogue ruler with the dead daughter or the woman with the constant hemorrhage of blood began that particular day, probably not with an espresso latte in front of the morning news. They had one overarching purpose on that day: get to Jesus, for he was their only hope. 

If we can determine to do that, with that kind of desperation, we don’t have to worry about the results, for the consequence of getting to Jesus will take care of itself: the good news about Jesus will spread of its own accord, and it will be so powerful that humans won’t be able to hinder it. 

Just get to Jesus: first thing each day. And then, stay with him.

That’s what I believe my friend, Glen, meant when he said, “I like to be alone for my ‘private time.'” And that’s what I try to do each morning.

Then, voila, we can watch the good news spread, from our hearts, through our homes, to who knows where?

If we only get to Jesus.