“In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly.” — Psalm 5:3
Last week we explored the evening practice of reflecting back upon our day asking, “How was God with me today?” It’s a practice loosely based on the Ignatian idea of the Examen and the aim is to sharpen our awareness. If we can see God’s presence in retrospect, then perhaps it will help us to be aware of God’s presence in the moment.
This week we turned our attention from the end of the day to its beginning. For that we turned to Psalm 5:3. Here, in just one verse, David describes his morning practice—three things that together can be thought of as a way of committing our day, and ourselves, to God. Let’s look at the three:
In the morning. There isn’t a better time of day to turn our attention to God. The rest of our day can be chaotic with all sorts of pressures, expected and unexpected, pressing in on us. But in the morning we have an opportunity to turn our thoughts to God before any of that distraction.
Thomas à Kempis, in “The Imitation of Christ” called this “resolution.” Not in the sense of committing to be better or to do better, but in the sense of resolving to spend time with God. He thought that ideally we would spend our day in constant awareness of God’s presence. But he was a realist and knew that most of us cannot hold God in mind all day. His advice: at least begin and end the day by turning our thoughts Godward.
So what does this “morning resolution” look like? Here we turn again to Psalm 5:3.
First, we bring ourselves to God. “I lay my requests before you.” writes the Psalmist.
This is a deliberate act of presentation. It’s different from thinking through your diary or running through your to-do list. It’s the intentional act of coming before God — bringing yourself, your day, your hopes, your anxieties, your intentions — and placing them before God.
Here we follow the model of Jesus himself. Very early in Mark’s Gospel’s we see Jesus immersed in the demands of ministry. But then Mark tells us that Jesus long before dawn and went out to find a solitary place to pray (Mark 1:35). From that time of prayer came clarity and direction. Presence with God flowed into purposeful action: “Let us go into the next towns, that I may preach there also.” (Mark 1:38)
Jesus’ practice is an invitation for us to likewise seek God early, to find in his presence all that we need to move into purposeful action in the world.
But there’s a further important element here. David doesn’t just present his requests to God as if he expects God to merely approve them. Rather he waits:
“…and wait expectantly.”
Anyone can begin the day with intentions. Anyone can think ahead. Anyone can cover their plans in prayers. But what David adds — and what the contemplative tradition has always insisted upon — is the waiting that follows. To wait expectantly is to remain, for a moment, in a posture of receptivity. To resist the urge to hand God your list and rush back into the day. To allow a little space for God to meet you before the busyness begins.
It’s also, quietly, an act of humility. Our plans reflect our own needs, our own vision. By waiting, we give God opportunity to speak — to shape our day according to his kingdom rather than simply blessing our own agenda.
In the end, the picture is simple. Two bookends to the day. In the evening, the Examen — looking back, asking how God was present. In the morning, its partner — the resolution. A deliberate turning toward God before turning outward.
Together they hold the day in a frame of conscious awareness. Not a demand, but an invitation. Christ is with us. He is waiting on us. And he invites us — simply, practically — to take the time to notice.