I did an internet test a few years ago about multiple intelligences. Maybe some of you saw it and did it as well. This is the idea that intelligence is measured not just in terms of one's intellect, but in a variety of ways; there are 9, as the theory goes: self-smart; deep-question smart; picture smart; body smart; people smart; word smart; logic smart; music smart; and nature smart. I scored quite highly on the nature smart, which makes sense because I have this innate ability to remember geography. It is very hard for me to be lost.

One of the aspects about nature smart is that I have always looked for omens in nature. For example, not long ago a good friend died; the night before her funeral I happened to be standing on our deck and saw a shooting star. It was an omen, a sign if you will, that all was well and that life is deeply important and valuable. I argue with myself sometimes about this aspect of my nature, but I can't get away from it; I sometimes think to myself what nonsense to see symbols in the natural world around us. But the 1st Nations people do it and I grew up among 1st Nations people. Celtic people did it and that's part of my ancestry. Explorers and wayfinders do it as a means of finding a path. Jesus did it when he talked about farming or fishing and the weather.

This past weekend at our presbytery meeting in Nakusp the theme was Wayfinders, after the work of Wade Davis who gave the CBC Massey Lectures in 2009. Broadly speaking, wayfinding is the idea that there are those whose calling is to lead people through the wilderness and who are able to interpret the physical signs to find the way; the wilderness can be the ocean or the desert or the bush. Wayfinders are able to know the difference between clouds, where the sun rises and sets, the stars, the orientation of moss on a tree, and the list goes on.

More broadly, at presbytery, it was the idea that we need to find a new way in the world as God's church. It is the idea that God's Spirit is calling us and guiding us to move into the world with new vigour, with new energy, with new spiritedness. Paul knew something of this when he wrote that we are awaiting adoption as God's children, not born of fear, but born of the Spirit. At our presbytery meeting we spoke a lot about fear, the fear that keeps us from embracing life in all its fullness, the fear that keeps us locked in upper rooms lest THEY get us, the fear that keeps us from proclaiming God's gift of life we have witnessed in Jesus, the fear that keeps us separate and alone, the fear that keeps us from loving.

And to make the point, on Sunday morning during our closing worship service, Dan Chambers, our President of BC Conference, was preaching. About half-way through his sermon, a hummingbird flew into the sanctuary. It was hot and the doors were open. Now, Robertson Memorial is a fairly small church with a fairly low ceiling. The hummingbird kept bumping up against the ceiling because it was white and thought it was the sky. Dan stopped preaching because the hummingbird was obviously in distress; it was attracted to the lights, so we turned off all the lights. It flew more and more frantically, trying to find a way out. We tried to silently pray and will the hummingbird to find the door, but it was afraid and wasn't able to find its way out. We fretted and tried various means to push the increasingly tired bird towards the door and freedom. After a few minutes, Dan haltingly took up his sermon while a few folks were able to get some flowers and some sugar water to attract the hummingbird and try to capture it and free it. Finally, after probably 20 minutes of frantic flying, the hummingbird, exhausted, settled on the fake flowers and after one too quick attempt to draw the flowers off the ceiling and out the door, finally was released on the second try; we applauded and were relieved.

Was that the Holy Spirit? Was that the Spirit, tired, a little battered and bruised, trying to get out of the church? Or was that the Spirit, flying about, attempting to get us to sit up and take notice and then finally getting outside, with a little help from us, leading us out into the world? Was that the Spirit, inviting us to join in this new adventure outside of our churches where the gospel needs to be proclaimed anew and where people are living in fear or in bondage to the trappings of this world? Was this a new Pentecost and the new tongue isn't so much about speaking other people's language, but learning to speak the language of love and of courage? Was the hummingbird the Spirit, the wayfinder who was showing us the way? I don't know.

I do know this, though. God has not abandoned us. God has adopted us as sons and daughters. God has chosen us and intercedes with us in sighs too deep for words. But in this new and brave world, there are hazards and box canyons that we must navigate through and around; there are tall skyscrapers where we can't see the sky anymore, buildings of power and prestige and elitism; there are distractions, tempting waters of drugs and alcohol or of the latest new gadget that will make us cool. In this modern or post-modern world, the hummingbird is leading us outward to be wayfinders, to discern the signs of the times, to discern the way to wholeness, to love, to courage, to hope, to faithfulness, to justice, to life for all.

Lead on gentle hummingbird, lead on. We are following. We are following.

Amen.