I sat in worship today with four-year old Namoi on my lap.
Usually she's hard to corral, a force of action that whirls around during the service. But today she climbed into my lap as we began and stretched herself out, willingly collapsing into my arms.
As she lay there and the music began and the noise rose, my thoughts drifted to the Holy Spirit.
She fell asleep and I listened to her quiet breath as my own breath began to move in rhythm with hers.
I like thinking about the Holy Spirit in relation to breath. The Scriptures are full of verses that speak of God breathing life into things. The Pentecost story speaks of the Holy Spirit as a violent wind that comes in upon the disciples.
Breath gives us life. It reminds me I've been created and it draws me into the presence of God.
Worship was joyful this morning, loud and full of Holy Spirit-themed songs.
The drums, the piano, the guitar, the microphones and the voices and the clapping.
We've got the theme right, but have we got the listening?
As I sat with Namoi on my lap and listened- to both the worship and her breathing, I thought about how the Holy Spirit is probably a lot like the quiet noise of a little one's sleeping breath.
I talk and I work and I sing and I let the world shout. I listen to the loudness and I forget to hear the whispers.
Hearing the Holy Spirit and knowing its presence requires nearness.
I cannot hear the soft breath of a person from across the room. I cannot hear the Spirit's promptings from across the room either.
My breath cannot echo the Spirit's guiding unless I am close, nestled in, willing to draw near and to stay.
My life cannot be filled with the Holy Spirit unless I listen for the quiet breath present in spite of the noise of everything else.
The Spirit came in a violent wind and made its presence known through the gift of many languages, spoken and understood by those who had no business speaking or understanding.
But today, on this Pentecost Sunday, all I heard was the soft breathing of a sleeping four-year-old.
And the quiet rhythm of a Spirit asking me to come close,
to breathe deeply
and to hear.
come, Holy Spirit, come
fill us as your vessels
consecrate us as your people
may we be children of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit
amen.
1 comments:
"As I sat with Namoi on my lap and listened- to both the worship and her breathing, I thought about how the Holy Spirit is probably a lot like the quiet noise of a little one's sleeping breath.
I talk and I work and I sing and I let the world shout. I listen to the loudness and I forget to hear the whispers.
Hearing the Holy Spirit and knowing its presence requires nearness.
I cannot hear the soft breath of a person from across the room. I cannot hear the Spirit's promptings from across the room either.
My breath cannot echo the Spirit's guiding unless I am close, nestled in, willing to draw near and to stay."
how deeply beautiful that we would be beckoned close and near by the Spirit, and invited to breath deep, and to fall into a rhythm together, to be so close that it couldn't be any other way, and that we would know what it means to linger, and dwell in the Spirit- entirely moved by its breathing.
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