Teachable Moments

“The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may follow all the words of this law.”
Deuteronomy 29:29

I find myself living more as a caretaker these days, with fragile and aging parents, health conditions in our home, and a teenager with special needs. It’s important to grasp the moments, to get perspective, to see things rightly.

I remember a crisp fall day, while raking mounds of colorful leaves under our front tree. I was charged with the boring task to get them bagged. The kids were small then, but Ian, eager to help, was mimicking my actions with his smaller rake. He was so cute, so industrious. When I breathed heavy, he breathed heavy, when I swept wide, so did he. He was my shadow and he did his best to do as I did.

With a fresh patch of grass now visible, I decided to lay the rake aside and relaxed a bit laying down on my back. With one hand behind my head, the other plucking a blade of grass and chewing on it between my teeth. Ian soon followed suit, assuming the same position, right down to the grass between the teeth. We took a deep breath, crossed our legs and stared through the branches into the clear blue sky. After a short moment, Ian asked, “Dad, what are we doing?”

A teachable moment, and wonderfully I felt the Lord give insight for it. “We’re looking and listening for things we normally don’t notice,” I said.

“See that bird chirping at the top of the tree? And look at that hawk circling up high.” What do you see?” Ian played along. “I see an airplane.” Sure enough, between the limbs and leaves, the contrail of a jet was streaking across the sky.

We spent the next several minutes pointing out sights and sounds we hadn’t noticed before. It was a sparking conversation with a 7-year-old. 

Sometimes a forced change of perspective is necessary to see what has been happening all around us.

God often calls His people into the wilderness to show them who He is and who they are.

I think boredom can be seen in much the same way, it can be a blessing in life.

Our data-streamed society makes demands on our focus nearly every waking moment. Holding our attention is the sole function of algorithms. Boredom has subtly been labeled as bad, even wrong, something to be avoided at all costs. 

It overwhelms the stillness and quiets the small voice within. Shrinking our ability to discern the Lord’s voice, as well. It declares, “I’m the new normal,” and in many ways, it’s true.

It’s strange how our insatiable appetite for connection has left us increasingly isolated and disconnected from some of the vital rhythms of life. Boredom can be a powerful teacher, but we’re all skipping her class.

To be left alone with our own thoughts without constant access to endless options can feel like a wilderness. It can leave us feeling lost. How many have said how lost they feel without their phone? I think that being lost in that kind of wilderness is one of the first steps toward being truly found.

God often calls His people into the wilderness to show them who He is and who they are. It’s usually a forced change, rarely do they go willingly, but when they come back they’re changed.

I love being in the presence of large trees and often hike at the Cincinnati Nature to walk among them, but we have giant red oak trees in our yard, too. Gazing up through their branches and remembering raking leaves when the children were small, awakens something within. There is something even more restorative about walking through an old-growth forest. God seems to settle both the heart and the head in such places. Some might call it boring.

I find it resetting.

In fact, the Japanese have a term for it, “forest bathing,” the practice of intentionally slowing down and immersing yourself in the sights, sounds, smells, and textures of the forest. It has a cleansing effect, stepping away from the constant stream of information and allowing ourselves simply to notice again.

Maybe that’s part of what we’ve lost: the ability to notice.

The bird at the top of the tree. The jet slipping silently between the branches. The voice of a child beside you.

And perhaps, in the stillness, the voice of God.

Sometimes the most needful thing to do is to lay down the rake, lie on your back and change your orientation to see what has been there all along. We don’t need God to reveal something new, we simply need to notice what He has already placed before us.

How bored are you?