Our Ever Present God

Driving home from Lebanon on I5 late one afternoon a few weeks ago, exhausted after a wonderful but hectic week exploring Vermont and an intense day at the Cascade Writers’ Conference, aware that the home game at U of O, that Laurence had just assured me had not yet finished, would add to the traffic on the freeway, I was immersed in my desire just to get home as fast as possible. I hate driving at the best of times: this was not that. I hadn’t even reached Albany when I noticed the brake lights in the cars ahead of me as we ground to a halt and then edged forward yard by yard in this inexplicable way freeways have of playing with us. Don’t you always find you are in the slowest lane? Do you notice the cars on either side of you to see if you ever catch up? Does your exasperation rise as mine did that day? Stop, move a little, stop, move a little…

And then a patina of color caught my eye. I looked up. Yes, it was a rainbow. It wasn’t even a rainbow kind of day. It hadn’t rained. In fact the sun had been shining brilliantly. Yes, there were clouds—the white puffy ones, some grey ones, even some darker ones promising rain. Yet here it was. A rainbow. That amazing blend of colors reaching from the ground up to the top of the nearest cloud. It paused there, while I gazed.

My whole body trembled in awe, tears running down my cheeks. Here is God, reminding me of His promises, His faithfulness, His presence. My heart stilled; my anxiety dropped away. Here I am. I can do this. As I inched forward, my eyes kept returning to the rainbow. It hovered there until eventually, the traffic began to move, picked up speed, and I was on my way again.  What a relief.

And then, it happened again about an hour later. Brake lights, slow down, stop, move a few yards…

“God,” I cried, “I need another rainbow.” I searched the sky in vain. Still the same kind of clouds, but no rainbow.

“You don't need a rainbow,” I sensed the Father say gently. “You've already turned to me, and I am present with you. Yes, you're exhausted,. But you are alive. You haven't had an accident: you haven't run into the car ahead of you; the car behind you hasn't run into you. You are safe in my care.”

Oh yes, relax, Wendy, this too will pass. As it did, and I was thankful to discover it was just the freeway doing its thing; no one else had had an accident either.

Where is God in those moments of frustration? There are so many worse things going on in the lives of my loved ones. I had just been filled with the impressions of the beauty of God’s creation we had enjoyed day after day in Vermont. I had a million thoughts racing through my mind from all that had been shared at the conference. Why then did I lose it all in having to slow down on a freeway?

I wonder if small things can carry as much weight for us as big things. I wonder if we lose perspective so quickly. I wonder if we so easily lose sight of God who never loses sight of us.

My daily reading finds me in Micah today. I read these words: “But they do not know the thoughts of the Lord; they do not understand his plans, he who gathers them like sheaves to the threshing floor”. For me, as I sit with these words, I am reminded of how little we do understand what God is doing-- both in the big things and in the little. Yes, I see my grandson on the threshing floor as he deals with ill health that has interrupted his plans for the future. But can I also see myself there even as I respond to frustration in traffic on the freeway coming to a standstill? Is there a lesson here, Lord? Are you inviting me into a different way of being with you, allowing you to teach me how to acknowledge your presence in all things and how to trust you in openness and gratitude? Am I to learn how to find my center in you and remain peaceful when things don't go my way? Yes and yes and yes!

God is so faithful. I don't see him causing circumstances; I see him moving into our lives every time we acknowledge his presence. I see him longing to set us free from the crazy little things that keep us from experiencing his peace and joy.

“Your mercies are new every morning” -- maybe that should read, “Your mercies are new every moment.” As I turn toward him, God is there ready to meet me, ready to give me what I need for that moment. This present moment is filled with you, God. I need only stop, look, and listen.

What is the invitation to you today? What are you facing that could be an invitation into the heart of God for you? I was just listening to a message focusing on the story of Eve in the garden of Eden—of how differently things would have gone if she would have paused and then turned to God to ask him about what she was hearing and facing. What about you? Is there something that needs a decision, where you could run impulsively to act, and where God may have a perspective to offer that you haven’t considered? Is there something that is frustrating you, where a deep breath and a moment to check in with the Spirit could make a difference to your life? Are there things in your life that act as “triggers”, like the rainbow does for me, that are reminders of God’s presence?

Birds act as a trigger for me—I see a bird, or I hear one, and I am immediately turning to God—with a wonder if there is something He wants to say to me.

And sunsets--as the amazing colors spread across the sky, every day different depending on the cloud cover--my thoughts again turn to God.

Take a moment to identify your triggers and commit again to God that at those moments you will turn to Him acknowledging his presence with you and wondering if He has something to brilng to your mind that matters at that moment.

I wonder if we miss the longing God has for us to turn to him, the desire with which he created us and set us on planet earth to care for it and for one another. Let’s stop and look up. Let’s choose to experience his goodness as we walk through our ordinary days and allow the Spirit to make them extraordinary!