The Hour Has Not Yet Come

And Jesus said to her, "Woman, what concern is that to me and to you? My hour has not yet come.” ~ John 2:4

I went to the woods hoping to find the reported Winter Wren. The tiny mouse-like species was really living up to their name on this frozen day. The reporter noted that it was near a stream. I went to the location where I had known them to breed, only to find the stream so frozen that the waterfall was icicles. The lack of open water, coupled with hearing nothing other than a single chickadee and a nuthatch, fueled my doubt that I was at the right location. So I wandered down the trail, knowing that other options were out there.

What I found was more silence and a woods frozen solid. Still I enjoyed the walk, remaining observant and hopeful. I walked across another frozen stream and climbed the hill to a somewhat open area. There I noticed what might have passed for a bunch of leaves that struck me as bird-shaped. Sure enough, it was a perched Barred Owl lazily surveying the land, and ultimately me as well. The light was beginning to fade, but it was not yet time for this nocturnal hunter to prowl. I’ve seen a pair of Barred Owls in these woods before. Odds are that they are always in the woods, all year round, despite the lack of observable evidence. This species of owl is one of the most likely to respond to hearing their call, often quickly calling back, though rarely in winter. It is not that they are not present, more that the time is wrong for communicating which is necessary into the spring breeding season. The hour had not yet come to expect a Barred Owl, yet there we were, two warm-blooded creatures, sharing living space while creation around us was holding fast for the time when warmth would return.

The simple serendipity of that moment feels similar to Jesus turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana. It was not yet time for works of power as part of his intentional ministry, but here was a need that he had the ability to meet. The Barred Owl and I both consist largely of water, which all around us was icy hard, yet we creatures remained capable of moving, and one of us, flying. Not quite water into wine level miracle, but yet a marvel of gifts before their time. In a few short months these same woods will be alive in shades of green, babbling water, and vibrant song. Even though that particular hour has not yet come, life has not gone away. Life never does, nor does Spirit.

Prayer: Giver of Living Water, in this time of ice help us maintain the comfort of your presence that is drawn in before the hour comes to flow. Amen.