Walked out of church tonight and was treated to a breath of fresh air. I was cleansed by one of those cool winds on a warm evening. The kind where the breeze is at a perfect temperature of 20 degrees cooler than the air. I walked to the car, taking a deep breath with every couple steps… I tried to suck the whole night into my lungs, but it wouldn’t fit. When I got into the car to drive away, I was treated with an old memory. One of those stupid things that shouldn’t matter but do: the first, warm, moist, dusty, musky gust from the car A/C. All of last summer had been hiding in my vents for so long. But, in just a few short seconds, it flooded the car, seeped into my soul, and woke my mind from hibernation.

I can’t even imagine what it was like for the early Christians to have lifetimes of dead, stale air blown off their souls by the wind of the Holy Spirit. What kind of memories did that bring bring back? Did it remind them of the winds that blew open the red sea? Did they suddenly remember what they were thinking when Jesus told the wind to stop blowing in the middle of a storm tossed sea? Did they think of the gentle breeze on their necks coming from the palm fronds welcoming their Messiah into Jerusalem?


Blow wind, blow
The children cry.
Blow wind, blow
Make the rain clouds dry
Blow wind, blow
The birds all sing
Blow wind, blow
Let the branches swing
Blow wind, blow
The children cry
Blow wind, blow
Let my kite fly.

– By Rachel Colclough






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