By Deacon Gregory M. Kirk
St. Joseph Church, Galion
I just returned from Arizona. I flew to Scottsdale to celebrate a funeral service for a dear friend.
Flying is not “my thing.” I feel much better on the ground! But flying is something I do, when love compels it.
My friend was a seasoned world traveler, he lived with a beautiful, adventurous spirit. Last Saturday morning, I sat in a window seat on the jet that would take me west. Normally, taking off would find me with eyes closed, counting the minutes until landing. But on this beautiful, clear, sunny morning, I felt my friend with me, encouraging me to open my eyes, and to behold the power of God and the beauty of His creation.
So I opened my eyes, and looked out, watching as the plane lifted higher and higher into the sky. I marveled at rising above highways and rivers. Continuing up, I began to understand how “big” God’s creation is, how vast is the universe. When the plane rose above the clouds, it appeared like I was looking out over a white, snow covered mountain range. I will never forget such sublime beauty. Nor will I forget the overwhelming awareness of God’s majesty, and great power.
Taking it all in, I felt very “small.” Having some sense of the hugeness of creation, I couldn’t help feeling insignificant, in the face of such awesome power.
Then I remembered Psalm 139, a sacred poem that was meant to be sung. And I rested in the knowledge that I matter to God. A God who knew me (even my name), before I was born. A God who loved me, before the creation of the world:
“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are
wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I
was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the
earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were
written in your book before one of them came to be.” (Psalm 139, verse 13-16)
As I sailed through air, speeding toward the desert, I gave thanks to God that regardless of where I find myself, or where He sends me, He is already there, waiting for me, with love:
“Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If go
go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are
there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.” (Psalm
139, verse 7-10
We live in a world that is busy, loud, and increasingly filled with technology that consumes our time and attention. It becomes harder to hear God’s voice, God speaking to us, unless we deliberately seek to draw away from constant activity and noise. In Arizona, I was drawn to gaze at the mountains that surrounded me. I could feel their strength, I could see the beauty of God’s work. I rested in Him, and simply listened.
As we move toward the end of the another year, and the slowing and silence that winter brings, may God’s people everywhere find some time and space regularly to listen for the voice of the One who made us, and sustains us, because He loves us.
His voice makes every difference.
And His love makes all the difference in the world.