Tuesday night, after finishing our live church service for the week, I hopped in my car for the 20 mile drive home.
Four about the past four months, a small team of volunteers has been helping me produce a live church service on Tuesday nights that is broadcast via Facebook Live. And then we take a recording of the service and post it on our YouTube page and then also schedule it as a new post for Sunday mornings on our Facebook page.
And so some of the most intensely spiritual time of the week for me is the drive home after service on Tuesdays.
It's hard to explain the intense feelings that Tuesdays bring for me. Because in this new COVID era, Tuesdays have become the de facto pinnacle of my week. So if you were dissect my week, Wednesdays have kind of become my Mondays and Tuesdays have become my new Sundays.
Prior to the pandemic, Sunday afternoons were when I would finally relax for the week as the endorphins from presiding over service would slowly release for the rest of the day. But now that ritual happens on Tuesday evenings in a much more compact time frame. ... Say, like three to four hours instead nine or 10.
And so that first 20 minutes in my car, by myself, listening to nothing but the hum of my tires on the highway and seeing all of the colors of our autumn farm fields bursting forth. ... The various panarama of greens that dot our sugar beat, beans and cornfields. ... The golden yellows and tans of the wheat, sunflower and corn tassels. ... And then even the dark blacks of the recently harvested fields which have given up their bounty for the year.
If I'm lucky enough, there will be times on my way home that I see some of God's creatures as well. There are pheasants and crows and falcons and maybe even a bald eagle if I'm lucky. There are gophers that dart across the road, and once in a while I might see some deer feeding in the fields far from the road. ... One time, I'm pretty certain I saw a fox as well.
And then there are the skies. ... Now that we are nearing autumn, the sun is beginning to set when I am leaving the church about 7 or 7:30 in the evening. And so by the time I am on the road home, I generally get a view of a vast open western sky. But this past Tuesday night's display was beyond extraordinary.
We've had kind of a rainy weather pattern for the past week or so, and so there has been a number of dark gray clouds hanging low in the air. And on this night, the sun fought to poke through clouds. And despite its mightiest efforts it couldn't quite fully exceed. But the effect showed several weak spots in the clouds where the sun broke through, and it gave the appearance of a fire taking place behind a thick cheese cloth.
It was so beautiful, and I felt a sign from God to remind me to slow down and breath in life. And so I did. I pulled the car to the side of the road and snapped this photo. Admittedly, even though this photo is cool, it doesn't do the sky justice that night. ... But, really, what photo possibly can hold true to the panorama of God's color palette?
After taking the photo, I breathed in deeply and smelled all of that which was growing around me, felt the humid August breeze on my face and listened to the wind in the tall, uncut grass in the ditch. And then I shifted back into "drive," eased onto the highway and drove for home.
That short experience was good for several hours of "coming down" after service that night. And reminded me of the Spirit's active presence right here, right now. ... And that is where I was finding faith on Tuesday.
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