In recent weeks I've found myself pausing in shops and stores to look over the wind chimes.
It took me all of two hours to pick out a car.
I've spent two weeks picking out wind chimes.
We all have our priorities.
And what I'm finding is that there are more types of wind chimes in the world than types of doorbells. There are wind chimes for every taste and temperament. Some jingle. Some ping. Some click and clatter.
Personally, I like the wooden ones. They have a natural sound. And, truth to tell, what I'm looking for are wind chimes to replace the sound of leaves rustling in the old sycamore trees that once guarded our front door.
God has his own wind chimes.
They're called leaves.
And for many years, God's sycamore "wind chimes" were a part of my day.
I don't know about you, but I seldom think of the sound of the wind in the leaves without thinking of a Bible lesson — the story in John, where Nicodemus sneaks out at night to have a secret word with Jesus.
I've always liked that story.
You remember it.
Nicodemus, a Jewish ruler, tells Jesus he's seen the miracles Jesus has performed and knows he must be a man of God. Jesus uses the moment to explain the difference between mere manifestations of the spirit and the spirit itself.
"The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh and whither it goeth," Jesus says. "So is every one that is born of the spirit."
In other words, miracles are like rustling leaves. They are a signal, in this mortal world, of where the spirit can be found, though they are not the spirit itself. Instead of focusing on the manifestations of the spirit, we should let it direct us.
So, in a way, miracles are like "wind chimes" hanging in the doorway of God. They signal the entrance into the kingdom. Our senses can grasp the sounds made by the wind, but only our immortal sense can grasp the wind itself.
That's my reading of the scripture, anyway. Jesus was pointing out, again, the difference between the kingdom of the world and the kingdom of heaven.
And Nicodemus, like the rest of us, had a hard time mastering the idea.
In fact, we "Nicodemuses" not only miss the meaning of miracles, but we miss the great number of miracles that "sound" around us every day.
The birth of a baby and the death of a grudge are miracles.
So is the softening of a heart and the steeliness of courage.
The scent of lilacs, the taste of butter and the light of the stars are all miracles. They are all "wind chimes" that tell us the spirit is "listing" about us.
If we were sensitive enough, in fact, the "chiming" of all those miracles would make such a racket we'd have to hold our ears. None of us do, of course. Instead, we walk around "tone deaf" for days, never hearing a sound.
Unless something or someone reminds us.
And that, to come full circle, is why I'm buying wind chimes.
Now the sycamores are gone, I need that reminder. Besides, I like the idea of the wind chimes soothing me to sleep. But even more, I like the idea of them waking me up to the miracles of this life, and the life of the spirit that sustains the world.
E-mail: jerjohn@desnews.com
