…I Can’t Find Where Your Not

As I look out the windows in my classroom, I see flurries of large snowflakes falling onto 100-foot Ponderosa trees. The snow topped mountain 20 miles away tries to peak through the trees into my view. The sun, whose glory is muted by the clouds, tries to find crevasses in which to escape. Its golden rays bounce off the white floor. The beauty is undeniable. I watch as two squirrels (I wonder if it’s the same squirrels? See previous post: Shut My Mouth) scurry along the ground in search of food. As they find it, the stop together, nibbling on their find. They seem thrilled to find food and are happy to share it with each other. As I think about their happiness and the beauty of the terrain, I see God here.

As I talk with Jerry, the homeless man who used to panhandle for money on the street corner just three blocks away from my house, I smell the stench of liquor. It had been a while since I’d seen him, as he had told me that he was going to be “moving” soon. I saw him in Safeway with a bag of groceries (not a cart full of groceries like I had), and I practically ran up to him, so excited to see him. It had been about two or three months since I’d seen him last, and during that time every once in while (not often enough) Carrie and I would think and pray for him. I ask him how things were going and he told me that the Veteran’s Association had put him and two other Veterans up in a small house while the new homeless shelter was being built. They had given him some stamps for food, but he still asked for a little money (you can’t by alcohol with stamps). He has been off drugs for 13 years, but has still had a hard time “getting back on his feet.” The years of drug use still has an obvious effect on him. As we talk and I give him a couple bucks for beer, I see God here.

As I teach algebra to a group of 30 teenagers I think about what these kids think of me. I yell at them for being late to class and chewing gum and teach them a subject that almost no one in the world enjoys. I constantly am screaming at them to stop talking and pleading with them to do their homework. They spend 58 minutes with me, fives days a week and the whole time is spent working through complex algebra problems, with a little “STOP TALKING” and “SPIT OUT YOUR GUM” and “GET TO CLASS ON TIME” thrown in for good measure. They ask me annoying questions, they lie to my face, and they copy their homework from each other; however, despite this, I (sometimes) see God here.

I’d love to hear where you have seen Him lately.