Grace Upon Grace

Grace Upon Grace

The Wind
by Grant Christensen October 17, 1990
I wrote the following in October 1990 during a North Park Theological Seminary symposium on theological interpretation entitled, Ex Auditu. The symposium was centered around bringing the higher theological reflections of the academic, seminary world to the person in the pew. As a teacher's assistant, I had been invited to listen in on the symposium. Admittedly, I was a bit cynical in those days--maybe arising from my days at the Evergreen State College. Nevertheless, the reflection which I wrote for a new friend at the seminary, who was struggling with the intensity of the academic world, now comes full circle. Who knew that the Grant at North Park Theological Seminary in my early thirties would bring comfort to me in my late fifties.
I'm sitting on steps outside the still, hallowed halls of the seminary, while voices drifting through windows debate over matters beyond me, so pertinent and yet so far removed that no one will hear—except those hearing their own voices. The sun is shining, playfully glinting through leaves and branches of trees swaying in the wind. People walk by lost in conversation, lost in the care that comes from listening and walking together with another. A plane flies high overhead on its approach to O'Hare. I wonder where it comes from and where it goes? A longing arises, a longing for someplace other than here! In the distance, cars honk, tires screech, a constant drone of worker bees hurrying home to the hive.
The wind blows steadily in my face, tousling my hair like a schoolboy; I am reminded of words: "The wind blows where it wills, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know whence it comes or whither it goes; so it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit." I remember back to early years huddled beneath a creaking roof, while typhoon winds roared overhead, ripping large branches from the great trees in the yard, lifting entire roofs from homes built close together. Shear power engendered sheer terror.
	Or the gentle breezes that caressed like a mother's hand, while we sat by a lake enjoying the creator behind the creation, sailboats blown along—leisurely—children chattering and playing on white sands, while waves nudged the shore. Or moments when the wind is still, no breeze to caress, no gusts of power; yet, the air is full about us, this breathing, this living sustained by what we do not see.
Now, in the stillness of this moment, while words pass by the eye, He is here—coming, approaching, beckoning—but never leaving. The power, the life belongs to God, who shines the light of his mercy and grace into our hearts that we may know the one who calls us by name, Jesus Christ. And even though we are afflicted in every way, we are not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed ..." So, He calls, "Come!" While all along, never leaving us, never forsaking us. And from the depths of a thirsty and hungry heart, we too cry, "Come, Lord Jesus. Come!"
© 2022 by Grant Christensen. "Freely you have received, freely give." (Matthew 10:8b NIV) You are free to share--copy and redistribute in any medium or format--as long as you don't change the content and don't use commercially without permission of the author or author's family.