My sister left a comment on one of my recent posts indicating that she likes to read my blog to see what "God is teaching me." I guess that really is what this blog is about...what God has been teaching me. If one is just counting the number of recent posts, God does not appear to be teaching me much lately!
Of course, we know God is always about teaching us, transforming us, molding us. Sometimes, however, we just can't hear it clearly. These lyrics from Sara Groves' song "Hello Lord" speak to where I have been in recent months:
Right now I don't hear so well and I was
wondering if you could speak up. I know
that you tore the veil so I could sit
with you in person and hear what you're
saying, but right now, I just can't hear you
I don't doubt your sovereignty, I doubt
my own ability to hear what you're saying
and to do the right thing, and I
desperately want to do the right thing
Somewhere in the back of my mind I think
you are telling me to wait, and though
patience has never been mine, Lord
I will wait to hear from you.
For some reason, in recent months, I have felt that God and I are going through a quiet time. I described it to a friend that it feels like God is in the room, but on the other side of the room...a quiet Presence. He is smiling at me, He is looking at me with love...but He does not speak. I am safe, but He is silent.
As I am a person who thrives on interaction and conversation, I am frustrated by this. Sometime I have felt that prayer was a waste of time. Or at least I did, until I recently started praying with others.
In the past month, I have had the occasion to join two prayer groups; women praying together for our kids, our husbands, our friends, ourselves. One group meets once a month, the other meets weekly. I have also had the privilege recently of praying with friends over the phone during times of pain and heartache. In each of these holy scenarios, while praying with others, I have heard God's voice again. Through their voices, through our hearts joined together, His voice has gotten louder.
I couldn't live in isolation. I couldn't do this Journey alone. Tears run down my face as I sit here and thank God for the community of believers that He has placed me in. They lift me up, they sustain me. But more than that, they give volume and timbre and resonance to God's voice when my spirit can only hear human tones.