Hello - Can Anybody Hear Me?

A regular feature of life in the village where we live is the hot air balloon. They launch from a well-known castle, a few miles away and often pass quite near and sometimes right overhead. Over the years, we've been treated to some impressively low passes - the sort where you can hold a conversation with people in the basket without having to raise your voice - when the pilot has attempted to put his craft down in the field behind our house and has had to abort at the last moment.

One Saturday afternoon, my wife and I had been on a shopping expedition and were returning home. It was autumn time and the weather was damp and fairly still and time was drawing on. As we came to the village centre, several balloons could be seen hanging in the air around us, like great multi-coloured fungi. Instead of making the final turn for home, I continued up the lane towards a cluster of them and could see one particular balloon much lower than the others, coming across the chicken farm to our left. It wasn't difficult to read the pilot's intentions: He was aiming for that field behind the house and he was low enough and close enough to hear the stream of Anglo-Saxon coming from the basket. Things did not seem to be going quite to plan!

My wife said to me: "Let's drive underneath him" and I can remember an almost immediate check - not, perhaps, an audible voice, but certainly a strong impression: "Not a good idea". I replied: "No, things sometimes fall off" - and halted a few yards from where I estimated the balloon would cross the road. It cleared the farm fence, crossed the road, clipped the boundary hedge to the right, then rebounded and landed squarely in the middle of the tarmac, less than two cars' lengths in front of us. At that range it's impossible to take in the size of one of those things, without getting a serious crick in the neck!

At this point someone wearing a DJ and bow tie leaped out and started dancing in the middle of the road, yelling: "Come and hang on! Come and hang on!" By this time, two or three more cars had drawn up to watch the circus, so we all dutifully trotted over, took hold of the basket and walked it to the verge, whereupon the pilot collapsed the envelope over the hedge, into the field. A few moments later the chase crew arrived, packed the thing away into its trailer and the drama was over.

It would have been interesting, trying to explain that one to the insurance company: "Your car was written off by what, sir?" I like to think it was the Holy Spirit's prompting and, fortunately, I took notice, rather than being taken up with the moment. The Scriptures refer to the Spirit as 'counsellor' and 'teacher'. Some have tried to argue that He is no longer active, no longer needed perhaps, as He was in the times of the early church, but I see nothing in the Scriptures to support that viewpoint. I believe he still wants, as he always has, to teach, to lead, to advise the believer. But are we listening? Or are we all so busy with all our noise and activity that He can't get a word in edgeways?