All of us possess a desire for an inexpressive mystical joy. Most often these joyful treasures come unexpectedly–when reading a book, listening to music, walking along a forested path, looking over resplendent pastures sparkling green in the springtime sun.

During times of quiet a flash of joy tells us that God dwells within us, around us and above us. These joyful moments show us that God exists.

This mystical joy resembles fishing in a brook under the shade of shimmering aspens, the water softly gurgling and falling when suddenly the five pound trout that haunted our dreams strikes causing our line to sing and strain forming a momentary rainbow in a mist of spray. Eternity has been caught in that second of time before the trout twists free swimming again in the deep waters beyond the boulders.

Just as suddenly as our joy appeared the sun becomes oppressively hot and the mosquitoes annoying, but as we button our creel for the trip home that shining wisp of time becomes a treasure to be pursued again.

I suspect that whenever blissful moments creep upon us, through sunrises or sunsets, shadowed valleys or snow capped summits, undulating grassland or multicolored autumn, the soft breeze that flits upon our cheek shall be God’s spirit passing by.