Wednesday, October 7, 2015

MIRACLES EVERYWHERE








Last night I was walking through our park just before sunset. It was the perfect temperature. A tiny breeze in the air. Pink and lavender in the sky. Two black birds made a dive right in front of me. I thought, how do they do it? Fly, I mean. I have always considered birds flying as a miracle…defying gravity and just flying around all day doing what birds do without even thinking of it…they just do it. Flight is a miracle to me. And then I remembered what I read in Romans that morning…


Romans 1:20
20 For since the creation of the world, God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.

So I guess, God "did" birds and flight so I could see HIM…believe in HIM. God's existence shouts out, is abundantly clear because of his abundant showering of life and creative power all around us…rocks, moon, stars, trees, birds, air, hands that hold, hearts that beat and crave to keep beating…all tell us that HE IS…we are blind if we cannot see his face in all of creation, in all the world around us each and every day. We are without excuse…He is here…all around us. So that we can believe and be set free and…fly.



AND AS A POEM ...


why isn't every bird in flight considered a miracle?
every knee that bends?
each sun and moon rise a miracle?
why not each cat who deigns to plop on a lap and each dog who comes when he hears that special voice...why is that not evidence of the divine?
why is not each breath breathed and night fall felt as a comforting miracle, a gift from above?
why isn't each wave break, each wind that cools and soothes... a miracle?
why not see each child breaking free from the womb to be it's own as a miracle?
why not each eye blinking, each mouth smiling the result of a beautiful design?
To me..it is.
Each and every one…I see the hand of heaven involved,
with the goal to woo us unto himself,
to claim us as his own.
if only we could see each breath, each tickle of leaf on leaf, is his idea, his gift to us.