It's eight o'clock in the evening here in Massachusetts. It's the eighth of
July and it is eighty degrees. There is no breeze. Leaves are hanging
still. Sunflowers are starting to lose their vibrancy because it has been
many days since we had any serious rain that would concern someone with a
convertible. I was thinking about John 3 this afternoon. Jesus told
Nicodemus that God's Spirit moved like the wind among the trees. What of an
evening like this when there is no breeze? What of an era like this when
there seems to be so little of God's Spirit among the church? Hum? Perhaps
I am being too harsh and overly critical. Usually that is our problem. We
are parochial. If we don't personally see something then it isn't happening
anywhere.

This might have something to do with our desire to be at the center of
anything worthwhile. When someone tells me they were deeply moved last week
in church my response is, "Oh, that's nice." Rarely do I stop and ask,
"What was it? What was said? What was the point?" Instead it's just a
"that's nice." Since I didn't hear it or even worse because I didn't say
it, it really didn't matter much. Horrors.

But honestly I must say from my very narrow and limited view I don't see
much happening among God's people. Paul wrote in Colossians, "(I) do not
cease to pray for you, and to desire that ye might be filled with the
knowledge of His will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding;" I like
that prayer. This night I pray this for you and I do so desire that you do
so for me.

Perhaps there is a mighty breeze all around me. Perhaps the dearth of fresh
air is only located where I am sitting.