Have you ever gazed at the river or canal and paused. What questions might you ponder? The connectivity between its source and wherever the water flows on to, the sheer enormity of that length, or even the cycle of water from rain to river flow, to evaporation? Have you thought of the life within the canal, which appears so calm and still?; and of the trees which bedeck its banks, their branches hanging gracefully over the water, some reaching high seeking the sunshine.
When we look at the valleys near here we may see the geological folds, the incredible processes of water, both frozen and free flowing, and wind which have formed each bend and crevice, do we see the force of nature make such impact, or do we see hills?
When we may sit on the bus or in a cafe, do we see the hubbub of life, people wanting their journey to be over, or whether they could just sit a bit longer in the warm holding their coffee cup?
I wonder what stories they might wish to tell, of the burdens of life, of the joys in life? Their eyes fixed upon their mobile phones or the floor, or perhaps just watching people passing by the windows.
Perhaps this Lent we may wish to stop and pause, to take that opportunity to take a step back from the endless busyness of life. Then, maybe, just maybe, we might see, amidst the blur of the pace of life today, people who are seeking conversation, someone whom they can tell their story.
“But surely not them?”
The enemy is only one whose story we have yet to hear. Once heard we have links, connections, ways we may engage.
So may I invite you to take time this Lent, to see even beyond the surface of God’s natural beauty, to see the beauty in every single person and to offer to listen to their beautiful story.