Have you ever had one of those moments when you absolutely knew that God was trying to get something across to you, but you just weren’t sure what? Or why?
Well, I’m there.
Last week, out of the blue, an old blog post I wrote popped in my head.
A post about whispering. So, I scrolled through the archives and reread it, smiling as I remembered that season of life with my kids and the lessons that God taught me there.
Whispering then was birthed out of desperation in parenting. It was a grace-induced breath of fresh air that my kids and I needed to reset the atmosphere and tone of our home. It was sweet, and it was divine. God used that day of whispering to get through to me.
But why am I thinking of it now? I didn’t really know.
Now here I sit, one week later, and my voice is gone. The only sound I can produce is that of a whisper. {Seriously!?!}
And because I don’t believe in coincidence, this tells me 5 things:
1. God was doing more than reminding me of a sweet story last week.
2. I missed the point.
3. God isn’t mad at me for missing it. He isn’t frustrated or angry. My literal silence isn’t punishment from Him.
4. It’s out of God’s gracious, faithful and ever-patient love for me that He’s trying again.
5. I should press in close and seek Him for the lesson.
The truth is, I don’t always learn my lessons the first time. Actually, I’m pretty sure I miss them all the time. I miss God’s voice. I miss the point. I just flat out miss Him at work in my life. And sometimes, like right now, though I’m confident that He’s teaching me a lesson, I’m still clueless as to what or why.
Clueless.
And in that cluelessness, I feel strangely loved.
It’s like …
When my kids were learning to walk, I never got mad at them for falling down. Not once. When they were learning to read, I didn’t punish them for missing a word. I knew that it was just part of the process. When they were learning to ride a bike, I didn’t get frustrated when they needed my help. I expected it.
As their mom, I delighted in picking them up when they fell, and cheering them on with each new step they took. I loved hearing them first put letters together to make words and words together to make sentences. It was frustrating for them at times, but we worked through it. And the bike thing – that was a blast! How sweet it was to run along side them as they peddled hard, fighting for balance and finally finding it just before they slipped out of my tight grasp.
These are my kids – the ones that I love beyond measure – and this learning/growing/knowing is part of what we do. Together.
It’s no different with God.
Wait. I take that back.
It’s infinitely different with God because He’s infinitely more good. More loving. More gracious. More faithful. More merciful. More patient.
oh. so. patient.
And this is part of that learning/growing/knowing thing that we do. Together.
He’s not mad at me for missing the point. He’s not frustrated that I didn’t get it faster. He’s not disappointed in me {or in you.}
He just loving engages again. He patiently presses close, close enough to only have to whisper …
{Teach me, Father. I’m listening.}
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