Wednesday, March 9, 2016

When the Speech Balloon is Missing

I’ve been wrestling with Him about what it means to communicate. I’ve been begging Him to communicate with me the same way He does my favorite God-loving bloggers. I am inspired by the way they hear Him in whispers and shouts, through inklings and nudges. For the most part I’m inspired. But I’m also deeply jealous.

I wish there was a phone number for Him in the bible. I wish it was there, ten digits long with a promise to respond. I wish I could wander into a rest stop bathroom stall and see His name there with the magic digits sloppily scrawled underneath. I wish I had an old yearbook I could flip open and see his sloppy script that has ten numbers that magically come together in live connection between Him and I. 

I blame this selfish wish on the technology of my generation.

I blame it on the way we were raised with the birth and growth of texting. Its adolescence and ours walked hand in hand, like the family dog that was raised and trained beside us. We're a generation that communicates best through the ends of our thumbs. Our hearts leap in anticipation when the grey bubble with the three dots pops up to let us know someone is speaking.

Maybe we should scrawl that on the front of our bible as a warning. A warning the bears the fact that He is speaking and we are to wait, to listen.

Instead, I open the bible and name the believers who receive from Him better than I. I open the bible and beg for Him to be clear the way that He is with Hannah and Jane and Rachel and Tory. I spend my first moments wondering what they have that I don’t and He doesn’t seem to answer me. He doesn’t whisper or nudge or yell over the noisy, jealous words that are overcoming my spirit.

Instead, He sits and He waits. He waits for the chance for His grey cloud and three dots to catch my attention. And they don’t. They don’t because comparison is a loud, demanding voice.

I’m opening my bible and I’m screwing up. I’m not looking for Him there, but for the magical cure that’ll make me better at understanding. It’ll make me better at knowing His heart, meeting His words, and then sharing them all over the place. I’m ignoring the simple direction He gives with the three dots in a cloud: listen. 

Be still. Stop typing or thinking or worrying and listen.

Still. Listen. Still. Listen.

Maybe this ellipse-filled cloud season is the difficult place where I must choose to listen.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Feel free to share with me... In fact, your words do more for me than mine for you.

I reserve the right to remove negative interactions... This is a space to share, to inspire, to laugh, and to cry - while everyone is entitled to an opinion, no one is entitled to spread hurtful words.

Blogger Template designed By The Sunday Studio.