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Miracles


          He performs wonders that cannot be fathomed, miracles that cannot be counted. (Job 5:9)

          I call on you, my God, for you will answer me; turn your ear to me and hear my prayer. (Psalm 17:6)

          Miracle: extraordinary and astonishing happening that is attributed to the presence and action of an ultimate or divine power.

          According to a survey reported by NPR, nearly eighty percent of Americans believe in miracles.[1] Psychology Today reports approximately the same figures. In other words, belief in miracles very likely follows a standard distribution, or bell, curve. The standard distribution is also called a normal distribution, meaning that – whether or not people are correct to believe in miracles, it is normal for people in America to do so.
          I have some difficulty with the idea of miracles. As I consider the idea this morning, the best way I can describe it is that I believe there are major miracles: when God supernaturally does something spectacular that just isn’t possible apart from God’s involvement. There are also minor miracles when God weaves things together so that something that’s not necessarily spectacular happens, seemingly naturally, at the right time, in the right place, in the right way.
          I tend to be skeptical about people's claims about miracles. I’ve known people who seem to think that everything is a miracle and others who reject the possibility that a miracle has ever happened. I’m the same way about people’s claims of God speaking to them.  At the moment, I’m wondering if I’m not a little too skeptical. Other times, I fear I’m not skeptical enough.
          These are thoughts that come to mind after yesterday afternoon. I took one of my photo/research excursions yesterday. It turned out to be more photos than research, but that’s OK. There’s a path from the Anclote Gulf Park to the Key Vista Park. On my way back to the former, a guy asked me if I’d seen any eagles. As petty as it might seem, that had been one of my prayers on the drive too the coast, but the score was parks, three, eagles, zero.
          He then said that he’d talked to someone recently who had seen at least one. It took him a moment to dredge it from his memory, but he said that it was along the road, that I should look up and chances are good I’d see a big nest. Of course, I’d been looking up as I walked through the parks, but not so much while I was driving. So when I got done checking the piers at the Anclote Gulf Park one more time, I climbed back in the truck. Before I had driven the mile back to another park I’d visited earlier, I saw an eagle in a tree (no nest) and managed to get off the road and walk back to get pictures.
           No, that’s not a spectacular feeding five thousand people using one person’s dinner. It’s not the dead raised to life or even the sick or lame healed. Not a major miracle in the least, but I am contemplating the possibility of a minor miracle – just little things coming together, not supernaturally per se, but in a way that blesses.

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