Yesterday, late afternoon, there was a knock at my door, a friendly knock, the typical "shave and haircut, two bits" knock, and it was enough to get me up and at least look through the peephole to make sure someone I knew wasn't paying me a surprise visit.
There was a man standing a few feet back from my door. He was young with wild, curly red hair and not remotely familiar to me. I wasn't going to open the door for him, but I thought I'd at least see why he was there.
"Can I help you?" I said through the closed door.
I realize the door is thick and my voice sounded muffled even to me. But to the red-haired boy, my voice apparently sounded otherworldly, as if the voice of God was calling to him. He immediately started looking around him, behind him, up at the ceiling, to his left and to his right.
Could he not remember what door he had knocked on?
"Hello?" I tried again.
"Hello?" he answered back, still confused.
He was making this whole not opening the door for strangers thing very difficult. I was on the verge of knocking on the inside of my own door to get his attention when he finally zeroed in on me.
I wonder if God feels this frustration when He calls to us.
When I went to church this morning, I tried to get over my disappointment that even though I felt better than yesterday, I still felt weak and lightheaded like I was getting over a mysterious flu that came and went in a flash.
I was able to walk a little further today and knowing that I did not have the energy for the money shots, the close-ups of birds and flowers, I decided to look for things that we walk by every day and never notice, things that would call out to us if they could.
The truth is even a curled up, dried out leaf is beautiful. Every bit of nature has a story to tell, a life that it has lived.
All of God's creation is filled with patterns and colors and while we tend to be drawn to the bright colored things, to the birds that trill and puff out their feathers for anyone walking or flying by, if we took a moment to see that beauty is everywhere, we might treat nature with the reverence it deserves.
Everything begs for attention. And if we start by noticing the little things, the subtle things, perhaps we'll train ourselves to listen for God's voice which always comes in whispers.
There was a man standing a few feet back from my door. He was young with wild, curly red hair and not remotely familiar to me. I wasn't going to open the door for him, but I thought I'd at least see why he was there.
"Can I help you?" I said through the closed door.
I realize the door is thick and my voice sounded muffled even to me. But to the red-haired boy, my voice apparently sounded otherworldly, as if the voice of God was calling to him. He immediately started looking around him, behind him, up at the ceiling, to his left and to his right.
Could he not remember what door he had knocked on?
"Hello?" I tried again.
"Hello?" he answered back, still confused.
He was making this whole not opening the door for strangers thing very difficult. I was on the verge of knocking on the inside of my own door to get his attention when he finally zeroed in on me.
I wonder if God feels this frustration when He calls to us.
When I went to church this morning, I tried to get over my disappointment that even though I felt better than yesterday, I still felt weak and lightheaded like I was getting over a mysterious flu that came and went in a flash.
I was able to walk a little further today and knowing that I did not have the energy for the money shots, the close-ups of birds and flowers, I decided to look for things that we walk by every day and never notice, things that would call out to us if they could.
The truth is even a curled up, dried out leaf is beautiful. Every bit of nature has a story to tell, a life that it has lived.
All of God's creation is filled with patterns and colors and while we tend to be drawn to the bright colored things, to the birds that trill and puff out their feathers for anyone walking or flying by, if we took a moment to see that beauty is everywhere, we might treat nature with the reverence it deserves.
Everything begs for attention. And if we start by noticing the little things, the subtle things, perhaps we'll train ourselves to listen for God's voice which always comes in whispers.
Comments
Post a Comment