John 3:8 — “The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.”
Friday and Saturday I had my final wedding of the fall wedding season. The venue was north of I-40 in Statesville, and on the way, I drove literally through the hot air balloon festival.
I’ve never attended that event before, so it was mesmerizing to see. I’d be driving along and—there it was—in someone’s backyard, a massive hot air balloon lifting slowly into the sky. I’ll admit, I missed a few turns because I was paying more attention to the balloons than my GPS.
I’m a little neurotic about being on time for weddings, so on Saturday I left with 30 extra minutes just in case there was balloon traffic. Secretly, I hoped I’d see a few more on my way.
But Saturday was different.
The festival was cancelled. The winds were too strong.
There’s something about that that stuck with me—how the same wind that helps the balloons rise can also keep them grounded.
Have you ever noticed how wind can change everything in a moment?
One minute the air is still, calm, predictable. Then a gust comes out of nowhere—scattering papers, slamming a door, carrying dust and pollen and whatever else was settled.
Most of us don’t love that kind of unpredictability. We like our calendars. Our plans. Our tidy expectations for how life should unfold.
But Ruach doesn’t work that way.
The same word that means “breath” in Hebrew also means “wind.” Ruach Elohim—the Spirit of God—moves, stirs, disrupts, redirects. That’s what wind does. It refuses to stay put. It reminds us that the Divine is not static.
We talk about wanting to “feel God’s presence,” but we rarely want God to move us. Because movement requires surrender. It means letting go of the illusion of control and trusting that maybe the gust you’re fighting against is actually carrying you somewhere you need to be.
The book of Acts says a violent wind filled the house where the disciples were praying. A sound from heaven, it says. Not a gentle whisper—but force. Movement. Energy. Change.
I wonder if they were terrified before they were inspired. Because that’s often how Spirit shows up.
We like the breath part of God—comforting, sustaining. But the wind part? The one that rearranges our plans, uproots the familiar, and pushes us into new territory? That’s harder to welcome.
And yet, that’s where growth happens.
When Ruach moves, it loosens what’s grown stagnant. It pulls up what’s been buried. It carries seeds to places they’d never reach on their own.
Maybe that’s what Jesus was getting at in John 3. The Spirit isn’t something you can map or manage. It’s like wind—you can feel it, but you can’t control it. You just have to let it move you.
So if the winds around you have shifted lately—if the familiar has been blown apart—don’t assume it’s all destruction. It might just be Ruach doing what Ruach does: stirring up new life in places you didn’t plan to look.
Reflection Prompt:
Where have you been resisting the wind—trying to hold still—when maybe the Spirit is asking you to move?
Grace and Peace,
Andrea