Soggy Prayer
Psalm 100
I went for a run in the woods near our home. It had rained the night before and the air beneath the trees was alarmingly heavy with humidity. Just standing next to the car left me soggy. It took about a mile for my singlet to be soaked through. After two miles, I might as well have been running in the rain. By the time I finished an hour later, I looked and smelled like a jungle explorer.
But I would not have traded it for anything in the world.
I had been in the world, as the world, as God made it to be, as it is.
That is important for us to do from time to time. Most of the time, we exist in the world as we make the world--forcing it to fit the parameters we want or need in order for it to feel like home. Have you ever wondered why human houses use shapes, angles, and lines found nowhere in the natural world around them? When it rains, we walk outside with an umbrella, refusing to allow the rain to be the rain. When it is hot, we retreat indoors, crank down the thermostat and deny it is summer. These are not bad things to do, but they are attempts to control the world in which we exist, moving beyond what God created into something we have manipulated into what we want or need.
It can be refreshing to reacquaint ourselves with the world as it is. A run through a forest will do that. Sure, the trail is made, but most trails follow the lines that the dirt allows. We have to turn more, bend more, bounce more, and deal with the terrain. A grievous error with disastrous results is leaving the trail and bushwhacking. That will lead to falls, spills, or worse. It also does the forest no good. No, just take the trail for what it is. God where it goes. Enter the world.
Or, if running is not your thing, just go for a walk in the rain without an umbrella. You won't melt, I promise. Instead, experience the rain. Let it soak you. Feel its staccato pelting. Watch what it does to the world around you, realizing it is doing it to you, too. Smell it. Hear it.
In such a moment, we can discover how much a part of creation we are. We can feel ourselves become a piece of it.
Running through the woods was a joyous march that day. I got hot, soggy, and weary, but I felt a part of the world. I felt a part of God's creativity.
That felt good.
I went for a run in the woods near our home. It had rained the night before and the air beneath the trees was alarmingly heavy with humidity. Just standing next to the car left me soggy. It took about a mile for my singlet to be soaked through. After two miles, I might as well have been running in the rain. By the time I finished an hour later, I looked and smelled like a jungle explorer.
But I would not have traded it for anything in the world.
I had been in the world, as the world, as God made it to be, as it is.
That is important for us to do from time to time. Most of the time, we exist in the world as we make the world--forcing it to fit the parameters we want or need in order for it to feel like home. Have you ever wondered why human houses use shapes, angles, and lines found nowhere in the natural world around them? When it rains, we walk outside with an umbrella, refusing to allow the rain to be the rain. When it is hot, we retreat indoors, crank down the thermostat and deny it is summer. These are not bad things to do, but they are attempts to control the world in which we exist, moving beyond what God created into something we have manipulated into what we want or need.
It can be refreshing to reacquaint ourselves with the world as it is. A run through a forest will do that. Sure, the trail is made, but most trails follow the lines that the dirt allows. We have to turn more, bend more, bounce more, and deal with the terrain. A grievous error with disastrous results is leaving the trail and bushwhacking. That will lead to falls, spills, or worse. It also does the forest no good. No, just take the trail for what it is. God where it goes. Enter the world.
Or, if running is not your thing, just go for a walk in the rain without an umbrella. You won't melt, I promise. Instead, experience the rain. Let it soak you. Feel its staccato pelting. Watch what it does to the world around you, realizing it is doing it to you, too. Smell it. Hear it.
In such a moment, we can discover how much a part of creation we are. We can feel ourselves become a piece of it.
Running through the woods was a joyous march that day. I got hot, soggy, and weary, but I felt a part of the world. I felt a part of God's creativity.
That felt good.
Comments
Post a Comment