By Steve Matthews, Senior Associate Consultant
On Sunday, my partner and I decided to load up the bikes and head to the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, NC for a late afternoon ride. Despite the ominous sky, we needed exercise and a change of scenery. Whether from illness, work, family challenges, or the political and social climate, life had been stressful for us. Perhaps some movement and a change of scenery might improve our perspective.
On the Biltmore Estate, there is some beautiful bottom land that borders the French Broad River (one of the oldest rivers in the world). One year ago, this beautiful farmland and much of Asheville, NC was overwhelmed with flood waters – at some places on the estate the water crested at over 26 feet. The scars of the flood are still present in the landscape and in the lives of many who call these mountains home.
But on this late-summer September day in 2025, the fields were flush with beauty. A mile of sunflowers in full bloom bordered the road and bike path by the French Broad. Many people were out and about, and the sunflowers were like a magnet drawing everyone to come closer. Dozens of people were taking pictures of the fields, of their family and friends, and of themselves. Everyone was smiling. A stranger commented, “It’s impossible not to smile when in a field of sunflowers.”
Sigh. It was a gift to see the flowers, and even more precious to see so many radiant humans. It’s been a while since I witnessed this much communal wonder and delight.
Times are hard in this country right now (regardless of your political persuasion), and this Sunday excursion reminded me that there is something about being a human critter that can still draw us together – the bodacious beauty and wonder of our natural world can be a balm to our souls.
This experience reminds me of an encounter Thomas Merton, SJ had one afternoon in downtown Louisville, KY over 60 years ago:
“…at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world . . . .
This sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud. . . I have the immense joy of being human, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now that I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.” (from Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander)
It seems there is an invitation here. Why can’t I practice seeing my fellow humans as God’s own radiant creations glowing like the sun? I need to do this more. I need to feel less guarded and more curious and more loving… and more connected. And it is not easy. Merton recognized this, too, when he wrote “If only we could see each other that way all the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed. . . . But this cannot be seen, only believed and ‘understood’ by a peculiar gift.”
For now, perhaps we can practice seeing one another and our communities with new eyes and more curious hearts. This is the core of what we hope for at FaithX. We do this work because we see potentiality in one another, in our congregations, and in our neighborhoods. To learn more about our work and how we might better accompany you, contact us at info@faithx.net. Oh, and next summer, consider planting sunflowers!
