Touch a Tree

"Just how can I observe the Sabbath when I am booked from potentially 9am-9pm on Sundays with church and church related activities?" This question crowded my mind a few Sundays ago as I carefully planned out my Sunday (a surprise Sunday off from work) carefully to avoid overstimulation for myself but most especially for my 13 year old. A gentle, reflective introvert. My daughter. Daughter to me, the peace-making, compassionate extrovert, who has worked hard to rewrite my younger days of cramming everything possible into the 17-18 hours of my awake time.

We would go to Sunday School, watch the service online and then have a quiet time for 1.5 hours before I prepared lunch for her to go to confirmation class, then youth group before we would watch the Superbowl together with her requested football shaped brownies. We arrived 10 minutes early to confirmation class, pleasing my daughter-of-a-perpetually-late-hair-on-fire-mama so I could be present for the parent meeting and ease her into this rite of passage.

As the class started, I was the only parent there at first. And this, being my "3rd time around" I told the leaders it was fine with me if they went along with the lesson without the parents overview, since you know, I knew the ropes. They insisted I stay and my daughter nodded in agreement. Another parent joined in later so I heard the outline twice and my well trained and planned to a "t" mind became restless. I had planned a walk with a friend at 3:00, which would include my two dogs that needed their walk, I would get home by 4:00 and start dinner and the football shaped brownies, of course, all to be able to pick my daughter back up by 5:30. Time was ticking.

Then, one of the leaders suggested the parents do the first activity with the class. You can imagine my inner wrestle... First of all, the activity was outside. I was not dressed for withstanding the bitter cold of the North Carolina of late! Second, I had things to do.

I then heard a gentle invitation, "Relax, be present. You have the time to do this. Exhale."

The activity would be one of experiencing general revelation. General revelation, according to R.C. Sproul, is God's revelation of Himself primarily through nature and history, through the ministry of His providence to His people, and through His works of creation. It is the idea that God clearly reveals Himself through His creation - in humans and in nature. And I love one response too my google query..."general revelation provides the theatre of God's glory, while special revelation provides the specific redemptive message". The theatre of God's glory...let that sink in.

We were to walk outside and allow all of our senses to engage with the outdoors in personal silence and reflection... to listen, to see, to feel, to smell, even to taste the outside elements of God's creation. I brushed aside my first feeling sense of freezing cold and embraced the activity.

As I entered this "theatre" of God's glory on a random cold day of February, I acknowledged first the ordinary of this day and scene. It was a parking lot in the back of our church where trees stood bare, grass dormant, the sky gray with the literal smell of cold. It wasn't an awe inspiring sun-kissed orange-purple-pink sky above white cresting waves of an ocean tide, salt flavoring my lips as the gentle wind brushed my cheeks like a soft embrace of the tangible presence of God in nature.

Sometimes the gift of ordinary bland things of life get overlooked for their unique revelation offerings to our hearts, minds and souls.

I exhaled, placed my hands in my pockets and embraced the suggested 5-10 minutes of being present. Engaging my senses meant an extra measure of concentration and the connection of each sense to its object of engagement. I heard a bird sing, then another and a third. I identified the third as a mourning dove. I couldn't remember the last time I listened to birds closely enough to name one by its unique song. I saw leaves, dead and brown, covering the forest floor while new buds dared to peek from nearby branches desperate (as was I) to see and feel the sun. I inhaled deeply, smelling winter, her cool smoky aroma tickling my nose and leaving me with a faint taste of dirty ice.

Last but not least, I reached out to touch a tree. In this final intentional engagement of my senses, I felt fully present in that particular space and time. I saw my hand against the tree, small in comparison to her broad sturdy base. The bark was rough, cool, smooth, gray-brown-dull. Its branches touched the sky, its foundation escaped deep into the earth. A larger tree, it had likely been there for close to 100 years. I began imagining all of the comings and goings this tree had witnessed - those early to church, those sneaking in late, newlyweds holding hands while skipping in, couples estranged, children laughing, teenagers pestering, people arriving for weddings, people arriving for funerals... all those who moved along with the cadence of life, just as I had for the past 23 years, going in and out the back door, my mind on many things other than experiencing God in a church parking lot.

We walked back into the classroom and sat in silence for five minutes. This time, I embraced the pace of the class. I didn't feel rushed, I didn't look at my watch. I rested in the silent reflection until invited to share. The teens, parents and leaders alike had a similar experience in what happened when intentionally inviting space for God to speak into our lives. What had been a parking lot with dead leaves, dormant flowers and muddy snow piles became God's masterpiece theatre.

We shared sounds of leaves crushing beneath our feet, the wind moving through the trees, numerous bird song recollections and a few reports of unknown tiny animals scurrying about. We heard about sightings of snow, new baby grass, old and new cars, rocks, leaves, lines in the pavement. We also agreed that you can actually smell and taste winter. And one teen did admit to tasting snow...of course. We all used our senses of hearing, seeing, tasting and smelling BUT...someone forgot to feel...and that sweet look on her face when she realized it...she will never forget to feel again. And neither will I.

I realized that day, that we need community. And we also need to be encouraged to rest, reflect and really feel. General revelation is all around me every single day. How did I miss it? How did I walk in and out of that church hundreds of times and forget to pay attention, be present and feel?

How can we practice general revelation in this season of Lent? Can we pause to engage our senses so that we are more fully present in each moment of our lives? Can we put off the list of "to-dos" and embrace rest, quiet and margin so that God is able to provide opportunities for our relationship with Him? As our days grow longer these next 6 weeks, the sun will do its best to lure all of those peeking buds to bloom. Let us do our own blooming too. Now go touch some trees.