Autumn has come! Our always-playful seasons seem to have made the switch, giving the outdoors a breezy crispness, and our indoors that distinctive warmth of stoves and heaters. Our New England seasons are iconic, and over time they become part of our bodies, so that we remember the warmth of stoves not just in our brains, but in our skins.

I love how these familiar transitions steadily remind me of my connection to Creation, and also for their reminder that I am not in control. But someone greater in power, greater in magnificence, and greater in love is in control. The psalmist proclaims, as we will sing this Sunday...

Sing to the Lord a new song;

sing to the Lord, all the whole earth.

...Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad;

let the sea thunder and all that is in it;

let the field be joyful and all that is therein.

Then shall all the trees of the wood shout for joy

before the Lord when he comes,

when he comes to judge the earth.

He will judge the world with righteousness

and the peoples with his truth.

Control itself is not un-Christian. Scripture tells us that God has entrusted us with a great deal of it. But in the midst of our struggles to share power and control well, I feel blessed by the seasons' invitation to humility.

Out my office window yesterday I saw a dozen sparrows, seven chipmunks, over 20 robins, and a single squirrel energetically gathering up the maple seeds, worms and autumn insects that will feed them through the winter. And I recognized that the activity of just our small yard was more than I could possibly comprehend...except perhaps by the knowing prickle of my skin, and a humble spirit. Thank you God. And may I also shout for joy with all the trees of the wood.

In the Spirit,