“The Ants, the Tomb, and the Pecans” June 23, 2025 – A Walk of Presence and Purpose

“The Ants, the Tomb, and the Pecans”

June 23, 2025 – A Walk of Presence and Purpose

This morning, I took a quiet walk behind Barbi’s workplace, just needing to breathe, reflect, and reset. There’s a gravel path that leads up to a replica of the tomb of Jesus—a sacred symbol that always reminds me of life, resurrection, and the quiet power of walking through trials with purpose.

As I was about to walk up to the top—using some stumbling steps to steady myself—I paused. And that’s when I noticed Bella behind me. I hadn’t realized she’d followed. She looked down near the base of the tomb and said with wonder, “Look at all these ants!”

So I stepped back down to see what she was seeing.

Sure enough, a trail of ants was working hard—moving together in lines, back and forth, carrying little bits of whatever they’d found. I reached into my pocket and realized I had just one last pecan crumb left from the handful I’d been snacking on during the walk. I knelt down and placed it near their trail.

Within seconds, the ants swarmed it. It was like watching a mini miracle—something from nothing, and yet everything to them. I turned to Bella and said, “I’m gonna go get a handful of pecans and come back to help them out.”

As we watched the ants hustle, I started to reflect out loud with her. “You know what this reminds me of? Proverbs 6. It says, ‘Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise.’ They work during the summer so they can store up food for the winter. That’s exactly what they’re doing right now. No one’s telling them what to do—they just know. They move. They gather. They prepare.”

I looked at Bella. “Wanna watch me give them more pecans?”

She smiled but said, “No, I think I’ll go back.”

So we started walking—but almost immediately she got stickers in her socks from the tall grass near the path. She stopped, frustrated, and I helped her pull them out one by one. As I did, a deeper lesson landed.

“If we’re not aware of where we’re walking,” I said, “we can end up with things stuck to us. Little things that don’t seem like much—but they hurt. They slow us down. And sometimes, they’re hard to get rid of.”

It hit me harder than I expected.

Bella headed back into the church office to help Barbi, and I made my way back toward the tomb—this time with a full handful of pecans in my palm.

I found the ants again and slowly started feeding them. A crumb here, a chunk there. It was beautiful to watch them organize, respond, and move together. Some ants led, some followed, others took turns. No fighting. No bragging. Just collective effort and shared purpose.

And in that moment, I wasn’t just feeding ants—I was contributing to something real.

To diligence.

To provision.

To nature’s design.

I thought about how we all have something to give. Something small to us, but big to someone else. Like a crumb of pecan to an ant.

I thought about teamwork—how no one ant could carry it alone, but together they moved the impossible.

I thought about preparation—how the ants work in summer, gathering not because they’re in trouble, but because they know winter is coming.

And I thought about my own path. Where I’m walking. What I’m carrying. And what’s sticking to me.

So here’s what I’ll leave with you:

Watch the ants.

Stay aware of your steps.

Prepare while there’s light.

And when you can—drop a pecan.

You never know who might need it.