The day was gorgeous, and for a Saturday fairly quiet. I made my way through Gibbon a bit more, finding Diocletian not to be such a bad character. Now a church history tells a different tale, of course. Birds were animated, flying about, an aviary all around. I was delighted to see a short article on the Flicker in this months National Geographic, and even more delighted to see a real flicker landing in the branches of a small oak, and then pecking along the ground.

Standing outside for a while, I watched. Nothing in particular, just watched. And found myself apparently a little more acceptable. There was a bird bath two feet away from me. A squirrel came while I was standing there and drank for a good long while. I’m not yet able to feed them from my hand… it takes time. No sermons either, though I did chat with a particularly noisy jay.

I didn’t get away as much as I thought, returning to other tasks for a while, moving forward when I said I wasn’t going to try. Ah, well. It feels right, and I don’t feel quite able to settle down and relax. There is a strong sense of preparation, work, constant movement in a direction I do not know. I have no vision of the end, only I feel constantly driven to seek it out, to do those things which advance the cause. Maybe this is because I have a meditative life built in. Looking out the window, sitting quiet for a moment watching the wildlife.

This afternoon I was thinking about calling, about purpose and direction, how God leads to unusual places, by unusual paths. I think it is easy to see what he is doing and not accept it, to say, “no, how about something else.” Only there is no ‘something else’, we have to take what comes. Then we are frustrated, not because we don’t hear the voice of God, because we delude ourselves into thinking we don’t hear the voice of God, but we do, and don’t like what God has to say. It is easier, then, to blame God’s silence, his lack of answers, rather than settling back and accepting the answers which come.

I wonder if I have been guilty of that in times past, always looking out in another way. This all now is me throwing up my hands and saying ‘come what may.’

That’s the trick really, that and faith. Our faith tells us the measure of our response, if we will step out because we completely trust in that which we do not see. If, though, we settle into trusting only that which we do see, those worlds which await stay hidden, grasped only when we fight the giants who can be vanquished after all.

I say this because I wrestle with the words of others, those who don’t feel the consuming presence, who don’t feel that which drives and leads. I do to such a degree that I cannot escape it, and can only embrace it… though I may be wrong of course. I wonder if people do feel the same call, the same leading, and yet have a stronger draw to hold onto that which justifies in this present world. Or, maybe there is a distinction, some are called to different roles which allow for less flexibility in response, and thus God’s hand is much stronger in setting the path.

It is a mystery, and always will remain such, for as Aslan told the children, the story of others is not theirs to know.