“THIS IS MY FATHER’S WORLD”

I’ve been very serious of late, considering changes I want to make in my life. And important as those considerations are, I don’t want to sound excessively solemn.

I grew up in a church-going family, with a lot of music. So I knew - to a certain degree - many hymns from an early age. But one of the first hymns I really
learned one titled “This Is My Father’s World”. It was at a summer day-camp at a local church that was geared toward music.

I think the reason that hymn (more than some others we also learned at that time) took such firm root in my mind was that the lyrics spoke to something that was part of my daily experience. One of the verses had the words, “In the rustling grass, I hear Him pass. God speaks to me everywhere.”

That wasn’t just poetry to my young mind. It was something I knew, something I’d experienced, something that has been part of the fabric of my daily life for as long as I can remember. God is with me, always.

I remember one summer afternoon when I was young, certainly no more than 8 years old. I and some friends had been playing up at the school, which was a mere block and a half from my home. It started to sprinkle, the way it does before the rain-clouds are about to really spill out the moisture. We all started dashing for our homes, none of us really expecting to make it before the downpour. As I ran, I prayed, “Oh, please! Hold off the rain until we get home!” My companions lived slightly closer to the school than I did. And even as I made the prayer, I was laughing somewhat, because I’d only made it a bit playfully. I mean that although I really didn’t want to get wet, I also didn’t think that the relative dryness of children on a summer day was all that important to God.

And the rain let up.

We all got home, fairly dry. And a moment or two after I was inside my house, the rain came down. And rained for an hour or so.

God was listening. Which gave me plenty of food for thought.

There have been many times when I’ve launched out into something without sufficient preparation, or without back-up options. And things have come together smoothly. Then, afterward, I’d learn that things weren’t supposed to work that way. I can only shake my head in wonder, marveling at how God watches out for His children and fools.

But whether or not I get the parking spot near my apartment when I pray for it, I know He is there with me. There is an Otherness around and about that I know to be God.

When I was in college, I took a philosophy class that discussed the various philosophical outlooks and intellectual proofs of the existence of God. I was intrigued by the many ways that men of reason found to justify their belief in God. And the many ways that other men (yes, even men of reason) found to justify their denial in the existence of God. But at rock bottom, they were all intellectual games to me.

Just as burning heat is an intellectual concept until you stick your finger in a fire and get burnt, I sometimes think that the presence of God can be in intellectual concept for people. Something to be argued, disputed, calculated, tested for. But I, apparently, had gotten my spiritual fingers burned so long ago I can’t remember not knowing the presence of God. It was so much part of the fabric of my life, that I didn’t realize until I was in college that most people have that experience rarely.

Jesus told Doubting Thomas that he believed because he has seen the risen Lord, but others believed (and would believe) without seeing. I understand what he meant so much better now than I did as a child.

This is my Father’s world, and I do hear Him about me. And knowing, I sometimes engage in playful exchanges with Him: even now, I sometimes ask for a temporary let-up in the rain. Sometimes it happens, sometimes not. Because that sort of request is a game between me and my heavenly Father. What is not a game is when I tell someone I will pray for them. As I’m driving, or walking, or doing a chore, I may be talking with God about those concerns. Because I know He is right there, available, listening.

That constant sense of His presence has carried me through many things. That constant sense of non-verbal dialogue has kept me from drowning in loneliness at times. That constant sense of His involvement keeps me looking for unexpected surprises and delights in the small things in life.

Because sometimes, someone pulls out of a parking spot in front of my apartment just as I get home. God exists, therefore I park.