The perfect days continue, all is bright and cool. Birds fly around in active exultation, my soul drifts easily from the mundane to the ethereal and back again. The branches move in the slight breeze, a bit like they were just beginning to feel the music but are not quite ready to dance yet. They bob their heads, move their shoulders, tap their feet, feeling out the rhythm. Oak leaves are beginning to turn brown and shrivel in their seasonal demise, cedars are losing their brown bulbous tips, as the seeds fall to the ground to encourage the forest most strenously that the day of Pines are gone and this is a Cedar neighborhood.

The moments of sunshine on my desk are lessening, soon to be gone, as the sun moves south along its yearly path.

There is an aspect of spirituality which I think is not discussed very much, and yet it is the deepest, most profound aspects. It is the being there when someone needs you. I’m not talking about intentional acts intended to both tell people they need help and then help them, or even the great aspects of seeing a clear need and responding as so many charities do. I’m talking about the more subtle aspects, like going and hanging out on a street corner for no other reason than whim and striking up a conversation with someone who really needs to hear helpful words of blessing.

I’m talking about saying something that may not seem important, but it is for the hearer, or doing some small act which is both casual and profound. I think this is deeper because it requires something of us we cannot manage or control, it requires a spiritual instinct so sensitive that we react with the Spirit without even knowing it. We just do the work of the Spirit naturally, and are even surprised when we are told it is such. There’s a place for intentional ministry to be sure, only I think a church that depends on this is an anemic church. It is not the intentional aspects which define the work of the Spirit in our midst. It is those instinctal times in which we reveal the Spirit working within us, acting and doing that which promotes the Spirit’s ends while remaining unaware.

It is the difference between playing the set notes of a simple song, and falling into the mastery of improvisation, where the instrument becomes less of a tool to fight and more of an extension of one’s soul.

The closer we get to God the more our actions will instinctually align with him, the farther we go the more our lives will encourage even more confusion in those we meet up with. We are always drifting towards one of these directions or the other, and this reality is profound indeed.