Hearing God
I'm not usually uptight or stressed--it's pretty rare, which is a blessing. But for whatever reason, anxiety has plagued me this weekend. If middle school is where my personal anxiety high watermark was set, I feel like I am approaching it. (Which gives me renewed sympathy for middle-schoolers.) As the weekend is closing, I feel almost panicky that my anxiety has not faded--that I am about to head into a brand new week still stressed, but already exhausted from fighting it all weekend.
I mention it to my brother as we are texting about something else. He reminds me of the importance of self-care. Lately, self-care equals kayaking for me. It's the quickest way I currently know to a little undisturbed peace and quiet. So, with only a few hours of daylight left, I make my pilgrimage to the reservoir.
It's quiet and calm, just like I was hoping. There are few fishermen dotting the water's edge, but I mostly have the place to myself. I paddle out to one of my favorite coves and just sit there and drift.
"God, I really want to hear you. You know how I'm feeling, and I don't want to feel this way. But I can't hear you. And I'm really tired. Please help me."
The sermon at church yesterday was based on the story of Jesus healing the man who was deaf and mute. It involved Jesus' spit, His fingers in the man's ears, and another finger on the man's tongue, resulting in perfect hearing and free speech. The pastor pointed out that the greatest miracle we really need in our lives is for Jesus to open our ears to hear His voice (and then of course to obey), and also our mouth to share what He's done for us.
This is exactly what I want, but it's been a struggle. There's plenty of distractions in life, and honestly, I've half given up trying to hear God's voice. I'm just trying to survive and find a little peace now and then, it seems like. But the message yesterday encouraged me to not give up, but to make this my greatest pursuit--to go to Jesus, and ask Him to open my heart to hear His voice--in every area of my life, even those areas I've given up hearing Him. The things that stress me out.
So I'm out in my kayak. The silky ripples reflect the fading light, and a gentle breeze cools my face. I feel soul-tired, but I have a purpose in being out here. Pulling out my Bible, I don't even know where to start. So I just ask Jesus to help me.
I open it, ready to start flipping to Psalms or something, but first I take a peek at where I've landed. A few underlined verses in Job 37 catch my eye:
"Do you know how God controls the storm and causes the lightning to flash forth from his clouds? Do you understand how he balances the clouds with wonderful perfection and skill?" (v. 15-16)
"Golden splendor comes from the mountain of God. He is clothed in dazzling splendor. We cannot imagine the power of the Almighty, yet he is so just and merciful that he does not oppress us. No wonder people everywhere fear him. People who are truly wise show him reverence." (v. 22-24)
As I ponder that thought, the breeze catches the pages of my Bible, and I let them turn freely. It's His Word--He can use anything in there to tell me whatever He wants.
More verses catch my eye between wind-swishes, in Psalms at this point, reminding me of God's power, His care, His understanding, and that all He really wants is to prove it to me when I put my hope in Him.
I like to say I put my hope in God, but the truth is, I usually put my hope in a lot of other things first, and God is more like a seatbelt. My trust is in the engine of the car, the quality of tires, the condition of the brakes. But if all that fails and an accident happens, I know God will take care of me.
But what if I start with God? Time and again I come to this realization, and here I am again--what if I spend more time and energy contemplating who God is, which inspires me to put my hope in Him, and less on trying to solve my own problems? Worship replaces worry; rest replaces stress.
I paddle back just as the sun is setting. The water is completely calm, my boat slicing through the glass-like surface. My heart is a lot calmer too. Winds of worry are never far away, but I'm determined to keep pointing myself toward the harbor of worship in God's presence.
I mention it to my brother as we are texting about something else. He reminds me of the importance of self-care. Lately, self-care equals kayaking for me. It's the quickest way I currently know to a little undisturbed peace and quiet. So, with only a few hours of daylight left, I make my pilgrimage to the reservoir.
It's quiet and calm, just like I was hoping. There are few fishermen dotting the water's edge, but I mostly have the place to myself. I paddle out to one of my favorite coves and just sit there and drift.
"God, I really want to hear you. You know how I'm feeling, and I don't want to feel this way. But I can't hear you. And I'm really tired. Please help me."
The sermon at church yesterday was based on the story of Jesus healing the man who was deaf and mute. It involved Jesus' spit, His fingers in the man's ears, and another finger on the man's tongue, resulting in perfect hearing and free speech. The pastor pointed out that the greatest miracle we really need in our lives is for Jesus to open our ears to hear His voice (and then of course to obey), and also our mouth to share what He's done for us.
This is exactly what I want, but it's been a struggle. There's plenty of distractions in life, and honestly, I've half given up trying to hear God's voice. I'm just trying to survive and find a little peace now and then, it seems like. But the message yesterday encouraged me to not give up, but to make this my greatest pursuit--to go to Jesus, and ask Him to open my heart to hear His voice--in every area of my life, even those areas I've given up hearing Him. The things that stress me out.
So I'm out in my kayak. The silky ripples reflect the fading light, and a gentle breeze cools my face. I feel soul-tired, but I have a purpose in being out here. Pulling out my Bible, I don't even know where to start. So I just ask Jesus to help me.
I open it, ready to start flipping to Psalms or something, but first I take a peek at where I've landed. A few underlined verses in Job 37 catch my eye:
"Do you know how God controls the storm and causes the lightning to flash forth from his clouds? Do you understand how he balances the clouds with wonderful perfection and skill?" (v. 15-16)
"Golden splendor comes from the mountain of God. He is clothed in dazzling splendor. We cannot imagine the power of the Almighty, yet he is so just and merciful that he does not oppress us. No wonder people everywhere fear him. People who are truly wise show him reverence." (v. 22-24)
As I ponder that thought, the breeze catches the pages of my Bible, and I let them turn freely. It's His Word--He can use anything in there to tell me whatever He wants.
More verses catch my eye between wind-swishes, in Psalms at this point, reminding me of God's power, His care, His understanding, and that all He really wants is to prove it to me when I put my hope in Him.
I like to say I put my hope in God, but the truth is, I usually put my hope in a lot of other things first, and God is more like a seatbelt. My trust is in the engine of the car, the quality of tires, the condition of the brakes. But if all that fails and an accident happens, I know God will take care of me.
But what if I start with God? Time and again I come to this realization, and here I am again--what if I spend more time and energy contemplating who God is, which inspires me to put my hope in Him, and less on trying to solve my own problems? Worship replaces worry; rest replaces stress.
I paddle back just as the sun is setting. The water is completely calm, my boat slicing through the glass-like surface. My heart is a lot calmer too. Winds of worry are never far away, but I'm determined to keep pointing myself toward the harbor of worship in God's presence.
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