Whispers through the Trees

There’s a promise in the Bible that when we seek God with all our hearts, we will find him. 

I’ve always thought of it as a kind of reward. Like God is looking at me and thinking – ‘nope, not quite enough Michele. Keep seeking me.’ Or, ‘almost – a little more effort there and then I’ll let you have a peek at me. I’ll let you hear my voice.’

But today I was walking Dusty round Scolty – the hill next to Banchory. The day was a crisp, cold autumn one, and I paused to take a picture of some of the fall foliage. It looked like some of the trees were in flames, highlighted against the drab browns and greens of others. 

And it was like he was speaking through it. Not in words. But I understood that I was looking at a picture of the church, where some individuals are on fire for God, full of the Spirit and in love with Jesus, where others are just quietly fading away, unfed faith withering and dying, or just hanging on with a resignation to accept the status quo, to keep going as we’ve always done.

It dawned on me that I’ve been misunderstanding what I’ve read. That it isn’t that God will one day say, ‘Right, Michele, you’ve managed to seek me enough so I’ll open your ears to hear my voice.’ No. It’s that the more time I spend in His presence, the more fluent I’ll become in the language of love he uses to speak through anything and everything. He's always speaking but I'm not always attuned to hear.

I think I’ve got the concept. And maybe, like learning any language, it’ll take me some time to learn it. Even to be brave enough to believe I’ve understood and can speak back and be understood. And even longer to become fluent in it. 

But it’s a challenge I want to rise to.