Into the Grove

For the past several days my wife and I have been enjoying the beauty of fall in the eastern Sierra Nevada mountains. We've driven the paved and unpaved roads that take us to the places where we drain our smartphone batteries taking photographs of the brilliant yellows and golds of the aspens around us. As we've travelled these roads I see so many folk with their smartphones or cameras, standing at the side of the road, taking their own photos of the fall spectacle. 

Yet, only a few of them go into the trees. 

I was thinking this morning of how I love to walk into an aspen grove, rather than following the lead of the others and stand at the side of the road taking pictures. I like going into the grove to hear the sound of my boots crunching the fallen aspen leaves. I like hearing the breeze as it winds its way through the treetops, singing a song and dropping leaves on my head. I like hearing the sound of the nearby creek as it rushes and trips over the rocks and boulders in its path. From within the grove, I find peace, quiet, stillness: the grove clears my head of all the noise of life that surrounds me, so that I only hear the noise of the grove. 

To me, this is how I see my relationship with God. When I'm with God, nothing else matters. Nothing intrudes into my time with Him. It's just He and I, present and in that moment. The grove is a place where He and I walk, perhaps silently, but with the knowledge that He's there. The grove is where I listen to the crunch of His footsteps on the leaves, or His breath as it breathes on the trees, and where He drops leaves playfully on my head. The grove is where He and I sit by the creek and listen to its song - a song that He has had it sing for millenia. The grove is where I meet God. 

I see all those folk who stand at the side of the road and take pictures, but don't go into the grove, and I equate that to someone who goes to church and listens to the pastor on Sunday, but does not have a relationship with God. They read the Bible, and perhaps memorize verses, but none of it speaks to them. They take communion, but it has no meaning for them. They pray, but only to ask, never to thank, never to acknowledge God. They are like those who stand at the side of the road, but fail to go into the grove. 

I choose to go into the grove.

Soli Deo Gloria

You can follow my Facebook writing page at facebook.com/johnscoffeehouse

Photo: aspens, McGeek Creek Canyon, October 2023. Smartphone capture. 

Comments

Anonymous said…
Love this!
Tim Riter said…
A fine insight, and quite well written. I'd love to see you at a writing conference sometime to amplify your options. :)
jprothero said…
Me too. I think for me it was all those church camps in the mountains that make me assume that I find God best in a forest.

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