Reading & Meditation
“There came from the sky a noise like a strong driving wind, and it filled the entire house.” Acts 2:2. Pentecost Sunday.
AS I sit on the back verandah of the country house in the early morning, the silence is palpable. The world seems to have somehow put itself on hold. You feel inclined to hold your breath. Nothing stirs. You can imagine how God made it – just like this. Leaves, flowers, grass, birds, mist, clouds. Silence.
And then suddenly, as if a switch has been thrown, it begins to change. The wind stirs the trees, little sparrows seem to hop out of nowhere on to the geraniums on the verandah steps. Then in an irreverent burst of energy, the screeching sulphur-crested cockatoos arrive, yelling at each other and the world. But is the beauty of creation disturbed or merely added to?
The Lord comes in a gentle breeze, in subtlety and in silence. The Lord also comes in the strong driving wind – and in the cacophony of cockatoos.
What of the Holy Spirit’s call to us? In flaming fire as on the day of Pentecost, or in the silence of one’s own company? Does God speak to us more clearly in silence because it is an all-too-infrequent commodity nowadays, and so we take notice of it? How is God lighting the fire in our life? Are we giving God the chance?
Lord, help me to make my petitions shorter and my silence with you longer.
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| Glories of Creation |
