We called them locust shells, and hung them on our shirt in the hopes of scaring girls. Now we know they aren’t locusts, but cicadas. Still, when they immerged by the thousands under our maple tree I couldn’t help but think of the warning Moses gave to Pharoah. “For if you refuse to let My people go, behold, tomorrow I will bring locusts into your territory. And they shall cover the surface of the land, so that no one shall be able to see the land.”
Yes, cicadas were crawling all over our tree and covered the ground under it. I don’t know if they are the 13 or 17 year variety, but they are smaller than the ones that appear in small numbers annually. They are no doubt the offspring of the ones that attacked our maple when it was a sapling a couple of generations ago.
They had inserted their eggs on the delicate branches, leaving scars that took years to disappear, and then burrowed under ground to feast on sap from the roots before heading back up the tree. I know I can’t stop them, because after brushing thousands of them off of the now mature maple, they start crawling back up before I can get around the tree.
While thinking about their immergence from the ground, I started thinking about my immergence back into the pulpit. My seven week absence from the pulpit is the longest I’ve gone without preaching in 53 years. Not that I haven’t enjoyed it. I’ve enjoyed hearing Mark preach, and got pretty good at filling out his outlines, even managing to fill in a blank or two before he got there.
I have discovered, however, that I really do like being in a pulpit more than being in a pew. And I certainly hope my reappearance isn’t viewed as the return of a noisy cicada, but as a preacher who’s excited to get back to doing what he still feels called to do.
God Bless, Rick
Chatham Christian Church 