Monday, September 21, 2015

Monday, September 21, 2015

Luke 12:16-21

Then he told them a parable: ‘The land of a rich man produced abundantly. And he thought to himself, “What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?” Then he said, “I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.” But God said to him, “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich towards God.’

Treasures of God

Sunlight dances through birch limbs in the September breeze. Myriad leaves break brilliant rays into an ever-changing spectrum, bright and shadow on a canvas of patio bricks, each moment a new work of wonder, art of the Divine Draftsman.

It’s the play of grace on earth’s green face, leaves waiting for frost to reveal the beauty hidden within each one, awakening us, too, to know the wonder that fills us, the utter grace of seeing and rejoicing in the miracle of life all-surrounding.

My eyes see and my heart feels it all on a Sunday afternoon, warmed by Earth’s golden star whose solace soon fades as it sinks behind the neighbor’s oaks, departing for the night to visit other hearts, stirring a gentle cool breath on my cheeks that reminds that October is near.

These rare days dwindle. But it matters not … for each fills the inner reservoir with the heart’s most-needed knowing of the gift each day is, the Love who speaks and seeks the beloved in every leaf and shadow, every ray of September sun and the sudden cool of falling eventide, light fading, the day departing but kissing the soul once more with the promise, “I’ll be back. I will always come to find you. That’s the way Love is.”

You speak in all this, Holy One, and I barely have the ears to hear. But thank you … for what little I am able to hear. It is your Love that opens my ears. It is your Love within that allows the hearing of the Love you are everywhere … and certainly in this holy time when earth and sky sing your name … and birch leaves trace the shadow of your face.

For a moment, I am not a fool who imagines I own anything or that any part of this wonder can belong to anyone. It is all gift. And it is all Love. Thank you … just thank you for opening my eyes to the treasures of God.

Pr. David L. Miller