Chris Caldwell, Broadway Baptist Church, Louisville
If we will listen, O God, you speak to us in ways we miss,
Such as the ways you speak to us through the snow
In the quiet after the snowfall, you remind us to be still, and know that you are God
In the beauty of the snowfall, you remind that trees are your ornaments, hillsides your canvas,
In the black slush beside the road, you remind us all the ways we pollute your world,
And you remind us of all the spiritual toxins we too easily allow to settle in the purity you had in mind for our souls.
In the cold upon our faces, you remind us of people whose work or lack of a home makes for long hours ducking away from bitter winds.
In the slight sliding of the car, you remind that life is never quite within our control.
Open our souls, Lord, to all the ways you wish to speak to us:
The honest word of a friend,
The more honest word of an enemy,
The things we watch that call us upward,
The things we watch that drag us downward,
The soaring of the bird,
The purring of the cat,
All these things, if we look through the lens of your Spirit, can call us in your direction.
We wish at times it were simpler, that you could just gently reach out your staff and lead us in paths of righteousness,
But we know this is not how you have chosen to work.
We know yours is the still small voice, seldom heard in earthquakes, or fires, or mighty winds.
So in this loud, clamorous world in which we live, teach us to watch, and to listen.
Help us Lord, not so much by disclosing yourself to us,
Rather, when you are there to be seen, or there to be heard, or there to be felt,
Help us not to miss it.