My church recently partnered with my town and a number of other local churches to host A City Set Apart. The event started at 6 PM on Friday, 11 September 2026 and ended at 6 PM on Friday, 12 September 2026. For twenty-fours, volunteers ranging from local clergy to lay people read Scripture aloud.
I signed up for the 2 AM slot on Saturday morning. I set an alarm for 1:15 AM and blearily crawled into a hot shower. I had a cup of coffee waiting in the fridge, which I popped into the microwave before heading downtown. My assigned text was Micah 1-7 (the entire book), which I apparently breezed through, even though I didn’t think I was reading that fast, so my pastor then gave me Psalms 42-51. Reading Micah, which is a pretty hardcore book, at 2 AM over a loudspeaker with my voice bouncing off the brick buildings around town square was powerful.
It was also just cool being out at that time of night. A lady from our sister church read a large portion of Psalms (including the lengthy Psalm 119), and hearing her reading it at that hour, while still a bit sleep deprived, really made it “hit” differently. I could really hear the poetry of the text, and she read it with this impassioned voice—not stentorian, not melodramatic, but I could feel the conviction in her reading.
Later, the lanky reverend of the Presbyterian Church read the Gospel of Matthew. I stuck around until shortly after 3:30 AM, by which point he’d read through chapter 9 or 10. At that point, I was ready to get back to Dr. Wife and Nugget and try to get some sleep (I ended up dozing until nearly 11:30 AM), but his reading also brought the Gospel to life. I’ve read Matthew dozens of times and have heard large chunks of it read in services over the years, but something about hearing the Presbyterian reverend read it in his distinct voice opened my eyes and heart to shades of significance I’d never really absorbed in prior readings.
That’s all to say that it was a memorable event and I hope they do it again next year. I told Dr. Wife I’d opt for an early morning slot again, but something a bit more reasonable, like 5 AM. I got home and I was absolutely ravenous, so I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and drank a caffeine-free Diet Pepsi in the dark before getting back into bed around 4 AM. I thought Dr. Wife was out cold, but she told me later that she heard me crack open the drink and wondered what in the world I was doing—ha!
I keep using the phrase, “there’s something about,” but I’ll abuse it again here: there’s something about that time of night, the wee hour(s), that makes everything a bit more intense and surreal. Sometimes that’s a bad thing—the overly vivid nightmare, the baby crying in the night, the distant wail of a motorcycle as someone is up to something sinister. But it can be good, too: the prayer warrior on his knees, intercessing to Christ; the sumptuous midnight snack (or PB&J); the people of a town marinating their home in God’s Word.
Sure, most nights I like to be long abed by 2 AM, but every once in awhile, those wee hours still have something to offer.
With that, here is 18 September 2025’s “TBT^16: The Frisson of the Night“:
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