And the LORD appeared to him by the oaks of Mamre, as he sat at the door of his tent in the heat of the day.
Around 8’clock last night, I hiked down from the summit of Virginia’s second highest mountain to watch the sunset from an open meadow, but I got there fifty minutes too early, and the ensuing boredom almost caused me to go back. Thankfully, an interceding voice whispered, “just rest here…watch… listen,” and it redeemed my night significantly. That next hour was mesmeric, filled with the kind of praying and singing and luminous joy that distinguishes heaven itself; but it was just a prelude—an altar call of sorts. Because, as darkness began to fall, I noticed a deer standing motionless just ahead of me. But she wasn’t looking at me; she was staring at something higher up the ridge, and I had to follow her gaze to see what it was. I’d trade a hundred sunsets and a hundred deer for what I saw next! It was the silhouette of a mama bear leading her little cub across the horizon.
I would’ve missed all those wonders had I let that initial boredom pull me away from being still before the Lord. And that’s the lesson, friend. When we focus on the surrounding distractions of life, we miss God’s surrounding presence.