Is there any place in the world more quiet than a church on a
Sunday afternoon?
And not just my church, Hope.
As I drove around this afternoon looking for birds, looking
for peace, I found intersection after intersection deserted. Even the largest churches had empty parking
lots.
Of course, it is Super Bowl Sunday.
And even Hope will be buzzing with activity later for the Super
Bowl party it is hosting.
But in general, churches on Sunday afternoons, an hour or
two after the last service is completed, are silent sanctuaries and Hope, in
particular, returns to its quiet, contemplative state, where only the bees and
lizards venture out, especially on such a cloudy day as today.
I love walking at Hope because the grounds at Hope always
inspire me to look for the small things, to see beauty in that bark-colored
lizard, to smile at the few wildflowers that thrive in the winter months when
all other flowers have wilted and turned inward from the lack of sun.
When I’m at Hope, I can appreciate a pile of logs and know
that even fallen trees are not abandoned here.
Even fallen trees wait to be called, wait to be used, wait to be found.
Our very first bridge out in the woods behind Hope was
constructed out of fallen trees.
Hope is one of the few places in this world that I have ever
walked and known two things to be true:
I am the only one out here.
I am not alone.
This afternoon as I walked, the feeling that there was
someone behind me walking was so strong that I turned around fully expecting to
see someone I knew from church, smiling, jiggling their keys and saying, “I was
wondering if you were ever going to turn around.”
But there was nothing, not even a bird or squirrel rustling
in the leaves for me to blame.
And yet, could it have been God?
What do you think?
How often does God walk with us?
How often do we ask God to walk with us?
How often do we ask God where He is?
When He’s been there the whole time … smiling, grinning …
just waiting for us to turn around.
And see.
Comments
Post a Comment