The hadada ibis chick in my garden is getting ready to fly. The sole surviving hachling after his sibling eggs were blown to the ground in a storm, his arrival surprised and delighted us (we had supposed the whole brood was lost). In the three-plus weeks since he emerged from his shelled incubator, the hadada’s world has been confined to a single branch on a tree from where he has watched our comings and goings, tilting his head to follow me with his eyes as I tend the rabbits. And we, in turn, have watched him grow from feathery babyhood to the size-able fellow that he is now.
In concluding my post on Getting to Know Him, I stated that “Knowing Him makes ALL the difference.”
Overstated? Decidedly not.
Skeptical that knowing a spiritual God could possibly make a difference in your everyday, practical, earthbound life?
If, like me, you find too much evidence of order and logic and wonder in this universe, to accept that life accidentally emerged from chaos, then, like me, you probably believe in or, at the very least, acknowledge the existence of a Creator. However, acknowledging the existence of God, is not the same as knowing Him. It is the latter which I aim to explore in this post.
It’s winter in my home town, Cape Town, at present. Walking my two German Shepherd dogs on the mountain trails, I am fortunate enough to witness firsthand, nature in all her fury and finery. We have just endured a long drought on this piece of the planet. Water is a rare and precious commodity on the Southern tip of Africa and with even less rainfall than usual over the past eighteen months, I have watched the riverbeds dry out, the ravines turn to mud and then dry sand and the dogs have relied on me carrying water for them.
Midwinter. Early morning. Outside the first light of dawn chases the receding darkness. I slip into the water. Its crisp coldness is a shock. Then, without my having to give instruction, my body kicks in. It knows what to do in water. Feet kicking, arms stroking rhythmically. Before I have even recovered from the shock of the coldness, I am gliding through the water.