Divine fingerprints



One of last year's buttercup spots; the one
mentioned in this blog far surpassed this.

 Sometimes the love of God is very quiet, sent via sight, hearing, smell, taste, or touch. I think about that every spring as we watch for the first buttercup blooms. My late mother-in-law grew up in a hilly rural area where the tiny yellow blooms proliferate. She led a type of family competition to see who could find the first buttercup of spring. As she aged and was moved into town, we made sure the first buttercups were delivered to her. Even as dementia set in, the tiny blooms brought a twinkle to her eyes. But one sunny, early spring day, just a year and a half before her death, her son (my husband) wheeled her out to the car and settled her in for drive to the orchard hills of her childhood roots. Rounding one corner, they came upon a whole carpet of yellow blooms, like a hint of Heaven’s streets of gold.

“It was like a gift from God,” my husband recalled. “I had never seen such a display.”

I thought of that incident in reading Klaus Issler’s book, Living into the Life of Jesus (IVP, 2012, p. 102). In writing about how we respond to God, he encouraged being more attentive to “God’s love initiatives” toward us. These might include “sunshine that warms me in a special moment, the cheerful sound of birds singing in the morning when I need that encouragement, a beautiful sunset that overwhelms me, a specific word from a friend that goes deep and a hug from a friend that puts flesh on love.”

He said it’s like these lines from “Aurora Leigh” by Elizabeth Browning (1806-1861):
Earth’s crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God:
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes, The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries.

Besides what’s taken in through our senses, God can speak through circumstances and relationships. Issler sensed God’s love initiatives, for example, in a friend who moved him from being a hand-shaker to a hugger. Another was in spending time with his toddler granddaughter.

Jesus often challenged His listeners, “He who has ears, let him hear.” It’s not just our ears that teach. All the senses, even that “extra sense,” can lead us to realize, “God passed by here.” It can even happen on a spring-warmed patch of soil, pushing out a golden carpet with a whispered, “I did this to bring you My pleasure.”