Even The trees Were Clapping Their Hands

I mostly yoga with my eyes closed moving to the guidance of my instructor’s voice. In Child’s Pose or as I stand before God in Mountain, I pray. It is not my usual time of prayer. I am not asking or interceding, not leading or agreeing. In yoga, I worship and I listen. Even while bent over in Rabbit or sitting in Chair, it seems that an angelic ladder has extended from the heavens to my room and I am present, still, listening.

Yoga has become one place where I don’t question God’s voice. It is where my creativity catches fire and questions not yet asked, are answered. As the normal chatter of my mind gives way to silence, space is made to be fully present. There are no distractions, not even the distraction of my own thoughts questioning, double-checking, critiquing. There is no fear. In yoga, I do not talk myself out of my thoughts before they can even have life. Rather, I just am. I just exist before God, moving, and breathing. And in those moments God’s spirit falls fresh on me.

Just the other morning, I was lying on my back with my hands in Surrender. The sun had risen and the light flowing through the skylight above beckoned me to open my eyes. There above me were the branches of the great pine which stands guard at the corner of our home blanketed by a blue yet somewhat cloudy sky. And as if my eyes were suddenly zooming camera lenses, I saw the leaves of the great pine clapping their hands. Really. The branches were not swaying in the wind, not blowing here and there. Rather, there was just enough pneuma for the tiny leaves to flutter against one another. They were clapping their hands and they clapped for me.

The Sunday before I‘d preached Uncompromising Joy. On this morning, the words of the prophet Isaiah returned to me as the leaves confirmed God’s promise.

You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands. (Isaiah 55:12)

As a new smile moved across my face, I wished that my eyes had been cameras. But I don’t think I will ever lose that image. The trees had clapped their hands as I lay in surrender to God. The earth would collaborate. The heavens were opened and they were opened for me. I breathed in that space once more before moving. Dear God, give each of us a spiritual practice that grounds us in your presence. Let us experience your word made flesh. The whole earth is cooperating and collaborating with you - for us. And we are grateful. Until Faith Becomes Sight! Rev. Vanessa Monroe