God is In…

I was on a roll there for a while—blogging at least once a week. Things were interrupted when the Easter service I attended was not the joyful or hopeful response to the Good News that the Risen Lord lives. The week following was filled with intentional sermon prep (as I tend to fill pulpits for pastors after Easter, so they can take a well deserved vacation). I intentionally poured into the service so I could bring and claim the hope, joy, and praise that this season deserves. Will confirmed I had accomplished my goal when he stated “this was the sermon you wanted and needed on Easter.”

Sitting in that pulpit, the Sunday after Easter, I had this very clear thought— “I really believe and take hope in all this.” And that is one of the greatest of gifts—to believe, despite every reason the world will try to give you not to, that God is love, God is good, all shall be well, and reconciliation is always occurring. The magic that is knowing: to God chaos is a chance to create something really beautiful; and wow, what a holy and precious hope that is.

Then, last week, my momentum of joy found in the little things slowed down a bit. I noticed my camera roll didn’t have quite as many delightful snapshots. So, I let myself explore what was happening. To be honest, I think that I just needed to see some diversity in flowers, in their shapes, their growth patterns, their colors, their essence. As you can see from the gallery above, these have reignited hope in me.

The world will attempt to give us every reason to give up hope—it is our job and calling to seek out the hope to work using our gifts to curate it—trusting that when we do we will find it. God is present, always, may we open our hearts to seeking and finding.

God is at the table moving through the laughter that escapes from our mouths.

God is in the deep meditative breaths I take as my HeadSpace meditation prompts me to breathe in deeply and exhale fully.

God is constantly speaking to us in flowers—asking us to draw nearer, stop, look, see, smell—I am good.

God is in the breeze running through our hair as we laugh like children riding around “jeeping” with people we love dearly.

God is in the rainbow light cast through stained glass windows, dancing in the shadows, blazing brightly through the sun.

God is in the wind that blows, and nearly sweeps my hat from my head. The same breeze that brings respite in the heat of late spring.

God is in the shared history of little boy clothes.

God is in the claiming of each and every child as one of God’s very own.

God is in the ordinary water that is set apart as holy—trickling down children’s faces, signing and sealing them as God’s own for always.

God is in the tea that grants me a moment of rest.

God is in the peace I find of a tea cup that matches my dress.

God is in the softness that wearing a flowy dress brings out in my own body and spirit.

God is in the breaking of bread and drinking of wine—around humble tables, filled with pasta, parmesan, and people who love one another.

God is in the text messages between my sister in law and me as I ask her how to pick the perfect peony.

God is in the peonies that I picked, who then took me completely by surprise.

God is in the breath of rest those peonies received after I placed them in a vase and the slurp of fresh water they gulped up greedily.

God was in the ten minutes I looked away.

God was the awe I experienced when I took the picture—tiny buds had uncurled and revealed a peony open, ready to give and receive all this world has to offer.

God was in the only gift I could give— a humble—“wow, thank you”—sheer unfiltered, awe.

Thanks be to God.

You see, all these things I could have let slip right on by, never acknowledging them as something God could be present in, because I was too busy trying to find God in the big, mighty, heavy things—but what if it all comes down to this—God can be in it all.

Perhaps, the little snippets of delight, those breathless moments of awe like witnessing a peony in full glory—that is the manna from Heaven—the bread of life to sustain us on this journey that is so often heavy, mighty, big, and hard.

Maybe the gift is that we can acknowledge God in and through it all; no matter how big, no matter how small.