I do not pretend to understand God, but I do know that when Spirit prompts with a sure instinct, I need to act. There is a lesson or a blessing or something to be avoided. Often it is quite a wonderment - like a particular Sunday several years ago.
It began with a photo of music and a message from a friend, Trey Ogle, who is a gifted organist. He was practicing for that Sunday’s service and selected an arrangement of “A Mighty Fortress is our God” for his postlude. This particular piece was composed by my friend, Stephen Aber, in memory of my first husband, Bob, and in honor of me. I had to hear it in person on the glorious pipes at the church I used to attend. My plan was to slip in the back, but my friend gave me away, so I made arrangements to sit with a dear aunt and uncle. That also ensured I'd not make a last minute excuse to myself.
I believe I was drawn to this service on that day for even more than that beautiful music. The minister’s use of a more literal translation of the Elijah story from the Hebrew Old Testament was fresh to my ears. Elijah is hiding in cave, not happy with God -- not at all. He wanted to find God, to feel the presence of Spirit, but all was empty. God was not there. The elements came to torment Elijah and he expects God. Yahweh was not in the huge wind, not in the earthquake, not in the fire. But after all of that, there was a still small voice or in this new translation: "And after the fire, the sound of crushed silence." Ah, crushed silence - a place of both despair and discovery. A place where the shattered pieces of life form prisms for new light. Still. Small. Internal. And in that crushed silence...the Source of All lives.
My journey is taking me far from the spiritual understanding I once had. I cannot return to the confines of my childhood beliefs. But I love the music, respect Spirit, and I circle back as I circle on.
Truth is found in the cave of my deepest self where the Mother/Father God is still and small...and powerful.
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