Invisible Elephants

You’re a leaf. 

Just roll with me on this. You’re a leaf.

Let’s say you’re a leaf on a Norway Maple, which, as my brief research concludes, is the name of a common large tree around here — at least in Dalton Gardens where we live. I actually thought they were oak trees of some kind, but I guess that's not the case (what do I know — I’m

Dalton Shotwell

California, the land of oak trees and rolling golden hills, and as we all know, Californians know everything … right?!?).

Anyway — you’re a leaf. The wind blows, and you react to that wind along with the thousands of other leaves, who are just like you, on the tree. You don’t really have a choice because you are a leaf, but still — you blow around. You wave about. Your neighbors wave about, too. The wind moves you whether you are aware of it or not, whether you choose it or not.

And if you’re a human — say, me — standing in the kitchen and looking out at your neighbor’s Norway Maple across the street, you might notice that the leaves betray a certain body to the wind’s movement, very much like ripples in a pond. There is an observable pattern to the movement of air through the trees. If you’ve ever been part of “The Wave” in a packed sports stadium, you might find kinship with a leaf when it feels the wind. And the human in the kitchen watching it all might notice that synchronicity.

That’s when, if you’re me, you think — “A HA! That’s what I’ll write about for my church blog this week — invisible elephants.”

My grandfather (on my mother’s side) used to say, “Mmmm hmmm  … There they go, Dalton — see ‘em? The invisible elephants are runnin’ ‘cross the hills again. And they’re movin’ quick today.” He said that because he and my grandmother lived on 600 acres of gently rolling hills populated by a beautiful blanket of lush green stalks of barley in the fertile coastal region of central California, where my barefoot mother spent her imaginative childhood on a trusty horse that she loved, with a sister who was just as barefoot, equestrian, and imaginative as she was. And when the coastal wind picked up over those gentle hills, one could see in vivid detail the definitions of the wind’s gusts and lulls expressed through the swaying of the barley stalks. When the barley was tall enough, the movements of the wind through the fields resembled the footprints of a herd of … something large, like invisible elephants trampling through the fields. So, this is what he told my mother and her sister when they were children, and this is what he told me. "See there? The elephants are runnin' again." 

God moves through our entire world that way, I think.

But remember — you’re just a leaf, or a single blade of barley. You can’t see the invisible elephants from where you are. The invisible elephants definitely see you, though, and they charge right through you.

Recently, Dan MacDonald, my father-in-law, blessed our congregation with a guest sermon. I had been eagerly anticipating this day like a parent who can’t wait to show his kid off at a talent show. For 23 years I’ve been aware of just how unique, gifted, and blessed Jenny’s father truly is, and how he can change a person’s life in an instant, without ever realizing it or seeking knowledge of it, with nothing more than his words. I’ve seen him preach numerous times and, every single time, each experience has never felt short of God’s own hands touching my life through Dan’s words. I love my father-in-law more than I can express. He’s the real deal. And he was the real deal with our 1st Pres family. Lucky you.

He talked about Romans 8:28. 

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

Dan went on to really extrapolate on this passage, and you should listen to his sermon if you missed it — or listen to it again; it’s that good. He made some excellent points that I won’t include here. But among his points, and I believe it was his main point, was that God works in all of our lives towards His will and our salvation — always. Literally ALWAYS.

It’s easy to see that truth when the flowers bloom, when the sunset is amazing, when you get the new job, when you have your first child, when you are blessed with your first grandchild, when the Mariners win the World Series … well, ok, I went maybe too far with that last one. But it’s also just as true when your car breaks down, when you get sick at the worst possible time, when your family member wanders deeper into addiction, when you need surgery, when you lose a spouse or a parent, when nations go to war … God is still working in all things. You often can’t see it in those times, but that is simply because ... 

You are a leaf.

The wind blows, and the leaves move in synchronized concert. If you asked each individual leaf what it feels like, the answers would be myriad. Some would celebrate the dance, others might express concern about their weakening branch. But if you were a human watching the wind blow through the branches from across the street — which is to say, if you were God — it would all make sense. You would see the large-scale patterns moving through the leaves as a matter of course and design, like a conducted symphony.

But, unfortunately, we “leaves” don’t get that observational privilege. We are confined to the point-of-view of a single leaf on a small branch on a large branch on a huge tree in a larger forest in a vast landscape — or a single blade on a stalk in an endless field of barley. The wind blows through us, and we only know that it feels good or that it’s stormy and we’re worried about the branch or the stalk breaking or that there’s a fire over yonder and the wind might just carry it here toward our own fiery death.

We are just leaves. We can’t control or even comprehend the bigger picture. But unlike leaves, we humans, who are still just like leaves, have Scripture. And Scripture tells us that we can and are to trust God’s promise that He never stops working for us, in ALL things, because of His endless and passionate and even desperate love for each one of us.

All the same — the leaf and the blade of barley probably can’t understand photosynthesis, climate patterns, or fire risk. As humans, we can’t fully understand the spark of life, comprehensive societal dynamics, or outright loss and tragedy. But the invisible elephants run anyway, and Scripture tells us that invisible elephants are evidence of God’s good work in our world — even when they break the stalks or carry the fire.

Ok, so Romans 8:28 doesn’t directly discuss wind in your neighbor’s Norway Maple nor invisible elephants in the central California barley fields, but I’m pretty sure that’s what God was getting at. We are all just leaves, and it is not for us to understand how all of nature works — but it clearly does. We are just humans, and it is not for us to understand God’s mind — but He clearly plans.

As Dan put it:
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“But for a Christian — a Christian looks at a verse like this and says, ‘There’s a reason that things happen. And I can know certain things, and I can find in this verse a promise to rest in, even though I don’t always understand what’s going on.’

We know that in all things God is working. Things don’t produce good just by chance; we don’t live in a universe that is just a random accident, floating around in this massive universe — the Bible says that we live in a world where there is a personal God who knows us, who loves us, and who is directing all of history toward His intended purposes. And if we know this personal God, then the Bible says this same God who is directing all of history towards His purposes is involved in YOUR life, and is working in YOUR life.”
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In other words — never mind the invisible elephants; that’s God’s doing. You just work on living and growing and trusting that the elephants are necessary. The leaf blows, and the barley sways, and that’s just how it works. God promises that it's all for the best, that the leaves are orchestrated, that the invisible elephants have a destination. And what in this universe is more secure than God's promise?

Plus … isn’t there some relief in the fact that you are just a leaf or a blade of barley? Imagine being responsible for directing a herd of invisible elephants! So … just be a leaf. That’s all you are, after all. And trust the wind.

In His wind,
Dalton