Out Our Way: Gabriel sings - Phillipians 4:4-7

Out our way, the voice of God can be heard daily, but only if we take the time to listen. That is one of the great secrets of the "Big Open." God is everywhere and speaks to us in so many "voices." He calls to us through the huge vistas that one sees up on the Tiger Ridge. He speaks through the breeze that pushes your hat back and the smell of the sage. He converses in the living connection between horse and rider. And for me, at least, He speaks directly to my soul through "Gabriel" - the western meadowlark.  

More than once Charlie and I have been surrounded by the Presence of God up there on the "Tiger." I have shared with you on numerous occasions that thrill I always got riding up atop a ridge with Charlie and just gazing over miles of open country for a few moments before heading back down to the herds. But have I shared with you the special sense of the Sacred I often felt when the meadowlarks sang?

I have written about this before, but it bears repeating. Many years ago I was driving on a back road and got caught in a terrible blizzard. Just to make things more terrifying, my car began to mysteriously start slowing down when I was a good 30-plus miles from the nearest town. Most of the region was barren wasteland, so no farms or ranches were around, either. Turns out the Highway Patrol closed the road after I had gone through, so there was no other traffic out there. Just me and a dying car.

The road was still clear enough to drive despite the poor visibility, but something was wrong with the car.

Though it was still moving, the car kept slowing down. From 60, it dropped to 45 , then to 35, and eventually I could not get it to go over 15 mph. And the snow was still blowing. Lots of prayers I can tell you! But as I slowly crawled over a slight rise, a rural store/gas station came into view. I coasted a bit and although now down to 5 mph, was drawing closer to shelter and hope. I made it into the store's lot and the car died. But I was safe!

Even so, my nerves were shot and my stomach was still tied up in knots. I opened the car door and stood up in the snow, which had begun to slacken. Then a bit of sun broke through the now clouds. And then God spoke through the meadowlarks. First one sang - then another - and then yet another. How rare to hear a chorus of meadowlarks singing - especially in the dead of winter and in a blizzard! And in that moment, God touched my soul with a peace I have never before experienced. I began to laugh and wanted to sing, but above all, to listen to the meadowlarks and hear the Voice of God.

Over the years I have had many dark days, and sometimes the emptiness, anxiety, and sense of futility nearly overwhelm me. I too often forget to listen for God's Voice in the midst of my inner turmoil. My cowboy days are over. My trail pard, Charlie, is gone as is "Doc," my cowpony. I now live in a noisy and crowded city, far from the "big open" and the song of the meadowlarks I loved so much. But the memories remain - and now and then I stop and remember to listen. God is still speaking.  

Be blessed and be a blessing.

Brother John

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The Rev. John Bruington is the retired pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Havre. He now lives in Colorado, but continues to write "Out Our Way." He can be reached for comment or dialogue at [email protected].