In western New York, windmills are thick in the hills. Clustered in stands towering above trees, they can look, especially on a foggy day, like something Orson Welles might have dreamed up. But there’s something hopeful about these windmills, too, something almost majestic. 90′ blades turn slowly, hum evenly, and wind changes to power for people far and wide.

Last week in south Florida, as we came down off a causeway, a flash in the sky caught our attention: kites. Huge kites, tethered to people strapped to snow boards fitted for ocean use. These people were slicing through waves and when an occasional gust came along, lifted high out of the water. I watched, mesmerized.

Scripture describes Spirit in terms of wind, and with one image conjures a range of ideas: unpredictability, refreshment, power, delight. I like that variety, appreciate its simplicity and mystery. And when it’s coupled with how wind is all over the place–New York, Florida or Patagonia–there’s another clue, too, of how the whole earth can be full of God’s glory.

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