Pastoral Thought--August 23

 Yesterday's Worship in the Park was a blessing to participate in with Old Union and Crestview. It was wonderful to gather in Old Union’s pavilion as three combined churches to worship the God that we love and serve. With that in mind I want to share with you a little thing that I noticed during one of our hymns. 

Following the message we sang the hymn The Solid Rock— or as it is also know My Hope is Built on Nothing Less.  I have known this hymn for quite some time as it a family favorite and one that I grew up singing a lot. While its origins date by the mid-19th century, the words of this hymn feel timely and appropriate to the church as we continue to look for ways to live faithfully in our world. 

It was during the first refrain I noticed something just beyond my eye-line happening in worship. As we sang: 

On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand; 

All other ground is sinking sand, 

All other ground is sinking same. 

I saw it. . . 

While I do not specialize in the study of birds, I saw one that I assumed was quite large circling high in the shy over a patch of trees. The bird effortlessly seemed glide in a circle over those trees. I watched the bird for the entire refrain as I knew the words well and could sing them by memory. Then as the second verse began I continued to watch this bird fly. Around and around it went. . . keeping the same general flight plan.  Each circle seemed to be bigger and more expansive than the first. At no point did it seem like the bird was working hard to fly. It just circled before us. 

It dipped down and back up as the verses continued of the hymn. Then I found myself almost singing to the bird as it flew before me. As I sang I wondered: 

what was it doing? 

Was it hunting something or stalking its prey? 

Was it a hawk and examining an injured animal below before deciding to pounce? 

On a warm sunny day was it just out for  a ’Sunday fly’ (rather than a Sunday drive)?

How long would the bird continue to circle above us? 

What was really happening here in this bird’s life? 

Sometimes the line between expectation and reality can blur. We think that we know exactly what is happening before our eyes only to discover that a choice that was made, or a action that was taken, was done so for reasons we did not know in the moment. Like the bird our choices, or those who we encounter, can seem to flow in one direction, but maybe as we discern that choice, we could discover something else happening here? 

The song ended and we sat down. The service continued and l lost track of the bird. But the question that this bird offered are still in my mind right now? I wonder what are the places today where we think we understand exactly what is happening? Maybe God is inviting us to see things differently? 

Blessings

Derek