Snow
I originally started this blog to help hone my writing skills, since I like to write, but rarely get the time. Still don't seem to find time to put out anything of quality...but here's something I wrote for the religion column of my city's newspaper a while back:
A few months ago, late on a Sunday night, it snowed. I remember it clearly, because if I would have had my way, I would have never seen it at all. But my infant daughter was crying and it was my turn to get up. I changed her, wrapped her tightly, and rocked her back to sleep. And passing by a window as I returned to the comfort of my own bed, I saw the snow. It was snowing heavily, but the flakes themselves were light and graceful, fluttering slowly to the ground like oak leaves in autumn.
What really caught my attention was the size of the snowflakes, maybe the biggest I had ever seen. Some appeared to be more than two inches in diameter. I felt drawn to go outside to see it more clearly, barefoot, wearing only shorts and a T-shirt. I sat in the old rocker on our porch and watched the beautiful snow come down.
For an hour, until my limbs were numb with cold, I sat captivated by the snowfall. The beauty was startling; the contrast between the busy motion of the snow and the total silence of the landscape was unearthly. And I prayed. I’m no stranger to prayer, but I somehow connected with God in a way that surprised even me. There in the quiet, I knew God was at work, I knew he was close. It was just snow, but it was more than that; it was one of the most spiritually stirring moments of my life.
There’s a fascinating story in I Kings 19:10-18, where God chose to reveal himself in a telling way to his prophet Elijah. As Elijah stood on the face of Mount Horeb there was a devastating windstorm that shook the ground, but God wasn’t in the wind. Next came an earthquake, but God was not in it. Then a fire, but still no God. But then there came a gentle whisper, and Elijah knew it was Him. The Lord spoke to Elijah, encouraging him, revitalizing him for the next part of his journey. God was in the whisper. And I think God was in the snow.
Many people would like God to reveal himself to us in a gigantic, exciting, life-changing way, maybe in a piercing blast of light like with the apostle Paul (Acts 9:3). But today God chooses to reveal himself in smaller, quieter ways.
He never shouts for our attention. He won’t force his way into our lives. There will always be things in our lives that call out more urgently for our attention. Our busyness will always obscure our view of Jesus. It’s what he called “the cares of this life and the lure of wealth.” (Matthew 13:22, NLT).
Why does the omnipotent creator of the universe allow himself to be upstaged by the insignificant matters of our little world? To lead us to seek him. Because he wants us to want him. He communicates in murmurs and whispers so that we have to stop and pay attention and actively search for him amid the roars and confusion of our lives. He’s not avoiding us; he’s asking us to give the effort that worshipping him requires. He wants to be part of our lives, but we must look for him as well.
Sometimes we must overlook all the urgent, often perfectly appropriate things that consume our lives. To know he is God, maybe we’ve got to be still. Listen for his whisper. Look at a snowflake. Connect with God.
A few months ago, late on a Sunday night, it snowed. I remember it clearly, because if I would have had my way, I would have never seen it at all. But my infant daughter was crying and it was my turn to get up. I changed her, wrapped her tightly, and rocked her back to sleep. And passing by a window as I returned to the comfort of my own bed, I saw the snow. It was snowing heavily, but the flakes themselves were light and graceful, fluttering slowly to the ground like oak leaves in autumn.
What really caught my attention was the size of the snowflakes, maybe the biggest I had ever seen. Some appeared to be more than two inches in diameter. I felt drawn to go outside to see it more clearly, barefoot, wearing only shorts and a T-shirt. I sat in the old rocker on our porch and watched the beautiful snow come down.
For an hour, until my limbs were numb with cold, I sat captivated by the snowfall. The beauty was startling; the contrast between the busy motion of the snow and the total silence of the landscape was unearthly. And I prayed. I’m no stranger to prayer, but I somehow connected with God in a way that surprised even me. There in the quiet, I knew God was at work, I knew he was close. It was just snow, but it was more than that; it was one of the most spiritually stirring moments of my life.
There’s a fascinating story in I Kings 19:10-18, where God chose to reveal himself in a telling way to his prophet Elijah. As Elijah stood on the face of Mount Horeb there was a devastating windstorm that shook the ground, but God wasn’t in the wind. Next came an earthquake, but God was not in it. Then a fire, but still no God. But then there came a gentle whisper, and Elijah knew it was Him. The Lord spoke to Elijah, encouraging him, revitalizing him for the next part of his journey. God was in the whisper. And I think God was in the snow.
Many people would like God to reveal himself to us in a gigantic, exciting, life-changing way, maybe in a piercing blast of light like with the apostle Paul (Acts 9:3). But today God chooses to reveal himself in smaller, quieter ways.
He never shouts for our attention. He won’t force his way into our lives. There will always be things in our lives that call out more urgently for our attention. Our busyness will always obscure our view of Jesus. It’s what he called “the cares of this life and the lure of wealth.” (Matthew 13:22, NLT).
Why does the omnipotent creator of the universe allow himself to be upstaged by the insignificant matters of our little world? To lead us to seek him. Because he wants us to want him. He communicates in murmurs and whispers so that we have to stop and pay attention and actively search for him amid the roars and confusion of our lives. He’s not avoiding us; he’s asking us to give the effort that worshipping him requires. He wants to be part of our lives, but we must look for him as well.
Sometimes we must overlook all the urgent, often perfectly appropriate things that consume our lives. To know he is God, maybe we’ve got to be still. Listen for his whisper. Look at a snowflake. Connect with God.
posted by Neal | 3:36 PM
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