Most mornings I do church in our loft, at my desk, looking out the window into the woods. There’s always a lot going on outside this window, but the focal point is a Tulip tree.

I have watched this particular tree grow from a sprout into a straight and tall youngster of about 30’. I have watched its leaves come and go, and its limbs stretch for the sun for over eight years. I feel like we have something of a relationship.

The other morning, I was noticing that the recent winds have sped its annual shedding. Leaves that I remember as tiny buds, then full and green, now yellow with occasional brown, are letting go, and returning to the earth.

As I pondered this seasonal cycle, a little twitch on the end of one of the tree’s branches caught my eye. It was an Eastern Phoebe, likely born and raised in the nest between the window I was looking out of and the eave of our cabin. This nest has been a summer home for Phoebes for years now.

I grabbed the binoculars that I keep on the sill, focused in, and wondered what year this gal or fellow came along. I wondered if it had inherited the family home, and if it would be cleaning it up a bit, and hatching the next generation come spring.

Later, as I read in another book by the Spirit, I came across these words from Colossians 1:23, “The gospel has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven.” I looked back at my tree, looked around for the Phoebe, but it was gone.

“The gospel has been proclaimed to every creature?” Funny, I’ve never seen a Phoebe with a bible under its wing, and I doubt the Tulip tree will be able to get to this year’s revival at the Baptist church down the road. How was the gospel proclaimed to creatures that don’t speak English, let alone ancient Greek? And, is humanity a part of this congregation that hears the wordless good news?

It would seem obvious that books, hymns, and sacred buildings don’t have an exclusive claim to the Spirit. The Spirit certainly proclaims in ways far higher than ours.

I’m thinking that there is a hum in the universe that we all, trees, birds, and people, are invited to hear. A hum of wonder. A hum of life. A hum of love. A hum that invites everything that has breath to hum along.

Could it be that simply being alive, creations of the Lord of Life, and bearers of that sacred spark, puts all of creation into the loving presence of the one in whom we live, and move, and have our being?

Again, all this is certainly higher than my ways, but it feels like good news to me.