I feel like I live in two places. One, I spend my days in city of Ulaanbaatar walking with friends, listening to their stories and seeking to recognise God at in work their lives. I love it, but there are moments when the city-life consumes my attention, running like an unending montage of scenes before my eyes. The rush of people, the throb of traffic-jammed streets and burgeoning high rises that bind the city, enclosing the skyscape, make it hard to still my mind and discern God’s workings.

              The other place I live, our home, is on the edge of the city in a rural district. There’s a small river close by, where we often walk. It is neither wide nor deep but the water is clear and glows silver under the sun’s sharp rays. The river flows into the city where sadly, it will become a turbid brown soup filled with rubbish.

              Two crows follow the water, flying parallel like a pair of skaters, until one nips the other. We watch the wind rise. Yowling, its voice grows louder and higher. It turns and twists, gathering sand in its grasp and flinging it on all in its path.

We retreat to the forest, walk amongst giant anthills, observe the pines and silver birch standing side by side. Our feet crunch on a floor littered with cones and needles. The warmth of the sun releases the fragrance of the earth. Green shoots push through the dryness and a tiny head furtively appears in the mouth of a hole. His nose twitches as he checks whether it’s safe to venture out after a long hibernation. The forest is reawakening.

We walk this place. Trying to understand it, we observe movement and growth, the path of the wind and the feel of the sun on our faces. We come to the realisation that all we discover is complex, detailed and bears God’s fingerprints. From the root threads that feed the intricate network of under and overground life to the bushes that burst with flaming red leaves, from the dots in the night sky to the rivers, lakes and seas; all flow at His command. He is here, impressing His creation onto our hearts and minds, speaking His presence into our lives and letting us know that we are never alone.

Though His once perfect creation is flawed, bound by a curse, yet in imperfection, it is still glorious, exacting praise from our lips.

City life is also imperfect, full of frenzy and noise. Buildings under construction squeeze cheek by jowl. Drivers, with hands on horns, force four lanes of traffic into two and people still manage to hurry from one place to another.

But I let my attention return to the friends beside me. A smile breaks across their faces, their eyes are alight with joy and excitement. As they begin to speak, my own eyes narrow. With deliberate care, I quieten my heart, listen and look beyond the feverish pace of life to understand the Spirit at work in His creation.

They share their experiences and, together, we call attention to Christ’s presence amongst us, and His work in our lives. Lightened by truth newly told, I get to know them and they me, until in turn we understand Him more deeply. In one sense, there is nothing remarkable about us, but on the other hand we voice the reality, that we too bear God’s imprint: He made us in His own image.

© copyright Gillian Newham 2022