Buds, Blossoms, and Almonds: The Touch of God, Regardless of the Season!

Looking for a Summer Bible Study? If you're in the area, come join us in July. Here's a glimmer of this year's study. 

The change happened in the dark. No one saw it take place, not even Moses. In the morning, however, the irrefutable evidence of God’s touch was clear to all. “Aaron’s staff, which represented the tribe of Levi, had not only sprouted but had budded, blossomed and produced almonds” (Numbers 17:8). 

A branch cut from its life-giving source is dead. It cannot sprout buds, it cannot produce flowers, and it cannot bear fruit. Yet the dry, withered staff of Aaron burst forth green and pinky-white with life because of the touch of God.

 

Just as God touched the dead staff of Aaron, so He touches our lives, and His touch brings forth the buds, blossoms, and almonds each day. Our Almighty God is not confined to any one season.

 

Come join us as we explore the touch of God on the lives of some people in the Bible and cultivate more God-awareness in our own. In His hands, we, too, will “bud, blossom, and produce fruit.” 

 

Worship

Leaving the comfort of our room at the Inn and the warmth of El Tovar’s cozy lobby, my husband and I stepped to the rim of the Grand Canyon and sat on the stone wall, waiting for the sun to rise. It was 5:00 AM, quiet and dark and still.  Few people could be seen. None could be heard. Surrounded by an expectant silence, we waited with a few others for God’s sunlight to manifest itself. Without words, we all knew what was coming.

As the minutes unhurriedly ticked by, words were whispered, but they were reverent, more felt than heard. For those of us who came for the experience of the sunrise, we simply waited, together, expecting to be awed with the wonder of God’s creation.

But as the time for sunrise neared, another group of people raced out to the rim, noisy and loud and disruptive. With only a few minutes to spare, they clutched their phones, preoccupied with the perfect camera shot. Waiting was not an option. “Have we missed it?” they yelled to each other. “Will you bring me some coffee?” they called out.  “It’s cold, isn’t it?” they noisily agreed. Crowding the rim, they blocked the view of those who had been waiting, disturbing the respectful silence.

The gathering along the rim grew crowded and hectic and rowdy.

And when the sun rose over the cliffs, those who had rushed out at the last minute captured their shot and hurried back inside, satisfied with the picture they took that proved they had seen the sunrise at the Grand Canyon.

But they missed the stillness of the wait, the reverence of the moments, the anticipation of what was to come. They missed the experience.

For one group of people, it was a time of wonder; the other group settled for a selfie.

Lord, may I always worship You in the manner you deserve. Amen.

“From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets, the name of the LORD is to be praised”

(Psalm 113:3 NIV).

“The heavens declare the glory of God;

the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Day after day they pour forth speech;

night after night they reveal knowledge.

They have no speech, they use no words;

no sound is heard from them.

Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,

their words to the ends of the world.

In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun.

It is like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber,

like a champion rejoicing to run his course.

It rises at one end of the heavens

and makes its circuit to the other;

nothing is deprived of its warmth”

 (Psalm 19:1-6 NIV).

"A Whole Lot of Nothing!"

Traveling from the Grand Tetons in Wyoming to Mount Rushmore in South Dakota, we chose the quickest route, a 450-mile stretch of highway that didn’t look very interesting on the map, but would save us several hours of driving time. Since we were leaving a stunning mountain range created by God and going to an iconic American symbol carved by man, we didn’t care that this drive wasn’t going to be a scenic one.

When we stopped for snacks and bottles of water at a convenience store along the way, the woman at the counter confirmed our assessment and commented, “Well, you’re headed where there’s just a whole lot of nothing.”

But as we continued to drive, a whole lot of nothing turned into something really awesome! Rocky, red-tinted hills rocketed into a crayon blue sky, splotched with soft white, puffy clouds. Shades of green -- golden and olive and evergreen -- bracketed the muddy river flowing parallel to the gray of the road.

Everything changed to color. Would we have noticed the green grass on the side of the road without the red cliffs? Would we have noticed the muddy-red of the water without the green growth carpeting its banks? Would the sky have seemed so blue without the layered red rocks reaching to touch it? And the white clouds so puffy and bright without the blue sky they hovered in?

We had no choice but to stop and gawk and snap a picture as the color exploded around us. We had driven into a western art museum full of vibrant landscapes, and all that was required of us was to pay attention and clap our hands, expressing our joy and showing our appreciation to the Creator of the World.

And my husband’s comment? “Well, if that’s a whole lot of nothing, I want a whole lot more of it!”

You see, somebody’s whole lot of nothing can be pretty awesome!

 “…the mountains and hills will burst into song before you.”

Isaiah 55:12b

Get on the Bus!

 

Now Nature holds her breath

To see the vital flood of radiance leap

Across the chasm; and crest the farthest rim…

Until the cataract of colour breaks

Upon the blackness of the granite floor.

(Henry Van Dyke, from “The Grand Canyon: Daybreak”)

That first glimpse of the Grand Canyon spun us around and left us dizzy.

Almost drowning in an emotional cascade, we exchanged wide smiles, mirroring respect and shock and amazement at the power of God and the beauty of His creation. Poetry flowing from our hearts, the only appropriate response. And then, standing still, we waited at the edge of Nature’s “flood of radiance” while the sun slowly set, sending shadows marching in every direction and enveloping the rim with silence. We were humbled and awed and stirred.

Even one glimmer of the Grand Canyon is a whole lot of God’s awesomeness, and we just wallowed in it.

And the very next morning, after the sun popped out, unmasking the blues and purples and pinks and reds in an ever-shifting kaleidoscope that magnified the miles of layered, weathered rocky cliffs and tree-dotted slopes, we grabbed our trekking poles, filled our backpacks with water and snacks, and took to the trail along the edge of the Grand Canyon’s south rim. We had been told it was seven miles, and we figured we could handle that distance without wearing ourselves out for the rest of our trip.

Full of anticipation, we began.

Each moment was savored. Each mile was worth it. We oohed and aahed and paused and soaked in as much grandeur as we could stand.

The mile markers reminded us how far we had walked, the sun blazed, and our 60-year-old bodies began to slow down. 

We weren’t worried, though, because a free shuttle bus stopped approximately every mile or so, making it easy to hop on and ride for a while. We knew we could always get on the bus, but we wanted to hike that seven miles without any help. 

With plenty of scenic stops along the path to rest and wallow in it all, we kept trekking. Soon, however, we discovered that the south rim path was twelve miles, not seven. We were doing pretty good, though, so we voted to continue our hike. We didn’t need the bus. And we’d have a story to tell our kids, a tale we began to rehearse as we walked, laughing about the seven miles that turned into twelve. And there was always the bus, waiting at every stop.

We continued to laugh as we walked, retelling the joke about the man who was caught in a flood and prayed for God to save him. Some boats came by and he waved them on. A helicopter flew over, and he waved it on. And then he drowned! And when he met God in heaven, the man asked, “God why did you let me drown? I prayed for You to save me!” And God replied, “I sent the boat! I sent the helicopter!” For crying out loud!

 

God kept sending a bus. We kept choosing to walk. Slowly.

Seven hours later, we reached the end of the path, somewhat dehydrated, completely exhausted, and barely able to walk. 

 

We thought we'd have a better story if we did it our way; God, however, kept sending the bus.

Well, we’ve got a story to tell for sure: Get on the Bus!

When you’re exhausted, get on the bus!

When you need rest, get on the bus!

When you’re thirsty, get on the bus!

You’ll be restored and refreshed and hydrated. And you’ll be ready for the next day! And the story will be even better because God is the one who sends the bus!

I lift up my eyes to the mountains— where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.

(Psalm 121:1-2 NIV).

By the word of the Lord the heavens were made, their starry host by the breath of his mouth.

He gathers the waters of the sea into jars; he puts the deep into storehouses.

Let all the earth fear the Lord; let all the people of the world revere him.

For he spoke, and it came to be; he commanded, and it stood firm.

(Psalm 33:6-9 NIV).

Fly Fishing

My husband and I had never been fly fishing, and we wanted to try something new. We read a little on the Internet, talked to a few people, booked the adventure, and packed what made sense to us: our fishing hats and shirts and water shoes.

We were celebrating our 36^th wedding anniversary with a trip to the Grand Canyon and Sedona, Arizona, and we were excited about this new adventure!

When the day arrived, our fly fishing guide picked us up from the place where we were staying in Sedona, and then he drove us some distance away to a place we’d never been before. 

He knew where he was going. He had gone before us. Many times.

He brought everything we needed. All the equipment. None of it was ours. The bait, the tackle box, the poles, and bottles of water.

And once we arrived, he gave us waterproof waders for our feet and showed us how to put them on, making sure we laced correctly. Then he handed us a trekking pole and told us to follow him.

He carried all the equipment. Even when we tried to take some of it from him, he insisted on carrying it for us.

And so we began our trek down to Oak Creek.

 

It wasn’t easy even though he was carrying all the heavy stuff. We still had to work at it. We’re in our 60’s, for crying out loud!

But we followed closely behind him.

We thought we were keeping up; he was simply making sure he was walking at the right pace for us.

I kept saying to Ian, “No falling! No falling!” I think our fishing guide grinned at that. I think he knew there was always the possibility we might fall even if we were careful!

 

But we hiked and climbed and crawled over boulders and weeds and stumps as we followed him.

He paused for us to rest along the way. We didn’t have to ask him to; he just did. He seemed to know when we needed to stop. It was hot. The path was rocky and steep. He reminded us to hydrate even if we didn’t think we needed to drink any water.

The view around us and above us was as spectacular as the one before us -- the red rocks of Sedona! We kept reminding each other to look up and look around so we wouldn’t miss one moment of the grandeur of God’s world.

 

 And then we arrived at our destination – this gorgeous running water called Oak Creek.

There was no one else around.

And that’s where he began to teach us.  

Wading out to a spot in the creek, he beckoned us to follow. To step like he stepped, carefully sliding our feet across the slippery creek bottom and then planting our feet firmly, making sure we were standing on a solid rock. Then he demonstrated how to hold the fishing pole and cast the line.

 

He let us use his equipment even if we were not at all confident in our ability to do so.

He stayed by our side and watched us closely, always ready to help.

He let us mess up. Several times I got the line stuck in a tree. “Oops! Help please!”

He was patient with us. And he knew how to wait patiently. Lots of standing and casting and waiting and wondering in fishing.

And then I experienced the thrill of that first nibble! Oh wow! I couldn’t stand it! I got so excited, I forgot what to do! “There it goes,” I pointed, as I watched the fish swim away. But how thrilling it was to feel that tug on the line, to know the fish were there, swimming around where we were standing in the water.

We kept trying.

But after a while, our guide wanted more for us. He wanted us to experience more than the thrill of that first nibble.

I liked it where I was! I had gotten used to this one spot. To me, it was a perfectly delightful, peaceful place. I got a nibble, for crying out loud! But our guide decided it was time to move, so we followed him to a different place that was even more difficult to get to. And once more I walked a path I never would have walked by myself.  

It was a difficult path, but we trusted him now even more than when we first started. We knew that he knew where he was going. So we followed -- climbing and crawling and stopping and resting a little -- to the place where he wanted to take us.

 

“Go right there!” he told me, pointing to a place I couldn’t see beyond the rocks, an area overgrown with weeds and thick with bushy trees. “Are you kidding me?” I thought. And when I hesitated, he stepped in and went before me and showed me that it was okay.

 

 

Stepping where he stepped, I followed him into the water where he showed me the best place to stand. I wasn’t too sure at first, and he seemed to sense that. But when he saw that I was all right, he took Ian to find the best spot for him to stand and fish.

 

Sometimes I couldn’t see our guide, but I knew he was there, keeping an eye on me. It was odd. I’m a concrete kind of water girl. I prefer a cement bottom with a filter system. But I felt safe in this place that I never would have gone by myself. 

And then it happened! The excitement up the creek was contagious. My husband had caught a fish! The explosion in my heart as I realized what had happened was the same joy as if it had been me! This experience was ours together. It didn’t matter to us who caught the fish, just that we had done it together! What a celebration!

And our guide never stopped helping us, wading into the creek with the net and scooping up the fish before it could get away.

What a thrill!

What a moment!

What a memory!

Taking one last picture, we eventually had to leave.

  

I think I’ll call this picture, “Praise God from whom all blessings flow!”

And thank you, Lord, that you are with us wherever we are, teaching us and guiding us and showing us the paths you would have us to go. Amen.

 “Show me your ways, LORD, teach me your paths.

Guide me in your truth and teach me,

for you are God my Savior,

and my hope is in you

all day long”

(Psalm 25:4-5 NIV).