Sometimes They are Bowing

Tim spoke a sermon many years ago.
He spoke with enthusiasm and detail and even cried, driving his point home.

His point was Jesus. 
How worthy Jesus was, and how worthy He is.

My Jesus, Tim exclaimed, taking ownership of his Lord.

Tim spoke about the nature of nature; how the trees grow so tall, as if reaching up to the sky. Their branches, like arms, open wide and drinking in the Sun. Drinking in the Son. 

The grass, the flowers, they all look up, grow up, face up.

The birds singing and the brooks bubbling, it all makes a beautiful noise unto the Lord.
They are worshiping God in their unique language.
Worship is their nature. 

So it is the rogue blades of grass which are bent over. The flowers with their beautiful heads down. I wonder about broken branches.
Are they in rebellion?
Are they refusing to stand tall and look to Him because they are in sin? 
Are they purposefully denying God worship? 

As I walk today, I see the bent grass and I contemplate the "why".
Since hearing Tim speak, many, many years ago, I have occasionally found myself contemplating the whys of bent and broken,

And this is where I hear the Lord answer: 

sometimes they are bowing. 

sometimes they are dying to themselves. 

and still other times, they are bent but not broken; broken but not dead. 

Years! It has been years since I have first wondered why most -but not all- plants grow up, not down. Years during which  I secretly wondered 
if every plant I saw face-down 
was somehow disgracing God.  

Why did I hear God speak to me today?
Why did He speak concerning this, of all things?

I am not certain.

Today I chose to get out and walk. I listened to a sermon. I listened to some music. And I listened to the wind, which never stopped blowing.
I listened for the Lord.

I told Him I was available. And when I put a second sermon on, I eventually turned it off because I couldn't hear Him past it.

I dedicated my walk to Him.

And He met me there.

Last week I did this same thing: walking and listening.
Last week He gave me words to share and words to cherish.
He did that again today.

He reminded me to see the beauty. 
The trees.
The fences, built over 100 years ago, aged with weather and wonder.
Birds, singing as they fly over the field and through the midst.

And I remembered this truth, He has given me eyes to see and ears to hear.