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Morning Reflection
July 7, 2026
The Revelation of Romance
“And yet, every morning, when I don’t find a letter again, I feel eerie. I feel as though there‘s something I have not yet realized; as though I must find a standpoint from which more truth can be seen.”
Ludwig Wittgenstein
Reflection by Peter Vanderveen
The statement above from Ludwig Wittgenstein is an entry in his diary about someone with whom he was romantically involved. It’s a beautiful and insightful reminder of how love can (and should) be a passion for us – before we sadly reduce it to an obligation. Some word from his friend is his first and primary thought each day. This, I hope, is an experience we have all had: this kind of longing and anticipation.
What is illuminating about Wittgenstein’s note, however, is his reflection, then, that apart from receiving a letter or a greeting his entire day is made strange. It’s not just that he is disappointed. “Eerie” is a haunting term. It indicates that there’s something amiss or warped or askew that affects everything else. And in order for everything else to be made right again, he needs to consciously reflect on the love he shares with this person – before getting caught up in all the other busyness within which we can get lost. He needs to reset himself within a greater truth, something he chooses to discover or investigate about his love, instead of enduring the resignation of shrugging off his response or, worst of all, falling back into simply taking this friendship for granted.
One of the most devastating effects of Christendom is that, in a thousand different ways, the Church has methodically transformed the passion of love into the burden of obligations. We approach God as an abstract but all-powerful authority who tells us “what we’re supposed to do.” And some of us, under threat and rather reluctantly, attend to this. How awful.
My guess is that most of us begin every day by taking God for granted. It’s easy to do, with nary a thought. If we love God, it’s hardly a passion. But the writer of Lamentations and the psalmist open for us a far different possibility. They voice an eagerness that is fulfilled each morning, an attentiveness that produces hope, for in the passion of God’s love the whole of the world is reframed. It provides us “a standpoint from which more truth can be seen.”
For the psalmist, waiting is longing; it’s yearning. And the fruit of that waiting upon God is the discovery of the infinite faithfulness which is God’s disposition toward us. And how would each day be changed if, in ever-new ways, these were our first and primary thoughts every morning, as if faith were a romance rather than a rule.
I wait for the Lord; my soul waits,
and in his word I hope;
my soul waits for the Lord
more than those who watch for the morning,
more than those who watch for the morning.
Psalm 130:5-6
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”
Lamentations 3:22-23
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