Let The Wind Be the Wind

The past few weeks, the Texas wind has been wild.
It wasn’t here… and then suddenly it was.

A few days ago, I was driving through town with my daughter, watching trees bend and dust swirl across the road. I asked her, “Do you ever wonder where the wind comes from? How it wasn’t here yesterday, and now it’s here today?”

Without hesitation, she said, “I think about it all the time.”

I smiled. I was strangely comforted knowing that at thirteen years old, she already carries those mystical, wondering thoughts — the kind that refuse to reduce the world to mechanics and measurements.

Several times this week, I crossed paths with these words of Jesus:

“The wind blows wherever it wants. Just as you can hear the wind but can’t tell where it comes from or where it goes, so you can’t explain how people are born of the Spirit.” – John 3:8 (NLT)

We live in a world that tries to outrun mystery.
Certainty is praised. Total understanding is the goal. Not knowing feels like weakness — something to fix as quickly as possible.

But I wonder if there is an invitation here.

An invitation to let the world be a world.
To let God be God.
And to let us simply be human.

Transformation, like the wind, often arrives unannounced. You don’t see it forming. You don’t hear it organizing. One day the air is still… the next day something is moving.

The Spirit does not ask for our full comprehension before it begins its work. It simply moves.

I often say, the smaller your world becomes, the bigger your life becomes. When we stop trying to control everything and instead pay attention to what’s right in front of us — the bend of a tree, the curiosity of a child, the quiet shift in our own heart — we begin to notice that something holy is happening.

So this week:

Let the wind be the wind.
Let the world be the world.
Let God be God.

And don’t forget to enjoy.

Notice the fruits of the Spirit wherever they appear and in whomever they appear. There is no jersey, no label, no category that can contain where the Spirit chooses to move. If you allow it, you will find it alive and well — sometimes in places you never expected.

You may not know where it came from.
You may not know where it’s going.
But you can feel it moving.

And that is enough.

Namaste,

Ashton