Golden Hours: Hour of Renewal

Written by: Cheryl Nembhard

Summer has a way of slowing us down. 

The days feel longer. There are golden hours when the light seems to linger just a little longer than usual. We gather around tables, take walks after dinner, sit outside a little later, and perhaps find ourselves remembering what it feels like to simply be.

But eventually, the mornings will begin to  feel different. Calendars will begin to fill. Vacations come to an end. School starts. Work rhythms return. Commitments start to multiply. And almost without realizing it, we can find ourselves moving from the spaciousness of summer into the familiar pace of routine.

As we get ready to make that transition, I wonder if God is inviting us to carry something with us?

Not necessarily the slower schedule, the long evenings or lazy mornings. But maybe the sweet simplicity we discovered when we weren't rushing quite as much.

Perhaps this is an invitation to make room–not simply in our calendars, but in our souls.

The prophet Isaiah gives us a beautiful reminder: “Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19 ESV)

God doesn't simply say, I did a new thing. Renewal is often a continual process.

He says, “I am doing.” God is continually at work in us, even when we cannot yet see the full picture. And sometimes, before we can recognize what God is bringing forth, we have to make room for it.

We live in a culture that often celebrates more–more accomplishments, more experiences, more productivity, more possessions, more visibility.

But Jesus offers us another way. He says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28 ESV)

Rest is not an interruption to the life God has called us to. Rest is part of the calling. 

There is a particular kind of freedom that comes when we stop trying to make everything complicated. Sweet simplicity might look like choosing presence over productivity. It might mean:

• Having dinner with people you love without checking your phone.

• Taking a walk without turning it into exercise, content, or an accomplishment.

• Opening your Bible without feeling pressure to produce some profound revelation.

• Sitting quietly with God and allowing yourself to be still. 

It is about learning to recognize what actually matters.

Jesus said, “But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” (Matthew 6:33 ESV)

When God is first, everything else can begin to find its proper place.

I’ve learned over the years that simplicity requires something that is often overlooked: courage. It takes courage to be content in a world constantly telling us that we need more. Paul wrote, “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.” (Philippians 4:11 ESV)

Notice the words “I have learned.” Contentment is learned. It is cultivated. It doesn't always arrive naturally. 

Courageous contentment means being able to say, God, I trust that what You have given me in this season is enough for today.

As August winds down and we turn to autumn, perhaps the question isn't simply, What do I need to accomplish? Perhaps we should also ask, What do I need to make room for?

More time with God?  More margin? More meaningful relationships? More rest? More willingness to be present in the life God has already given you?

Ecclesiastes 3:2 reminds us that there is “a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted.” (ESV) Every season has its own assignment.

And perhaps this moment is not asking us to hurry into the next thing.

Perhaps it is asking us to notice.

To notice what God is pruning.
To notice what He is growing.
To notice the quiet invitations.
To notice that renewal doesn't always arrive dramatically.

Sometimes renewal looks like a simpler life. A deeper trust. A slower breath. A heart that can say, God, I don't need to have everything figured out. I simply want to walk with You.

As the golden hours of summer begin to fade, may we resist the temptation to rush past this transition.

Instead, may we make room. Room for God, for rest. For simplicity, contentment. Room for whatever new thing He is quietly doing in our lives.

Because sometimes the most courageous thing we can do in a new season is not add something to our lives. Sometimes it is to let something go–and trust God with the space it leaves behind.