Hearing God’s voice is more about deepening relationship than completed tasks. Some people I admire for their intimate walk with God tell me that the voice that was once so clear actually becomes softer over time. Sometimes it feels like the sound of silence. When they lean in, waiting for specific direction, all they hear is “Closer.”
Sometimes saying yes to something means saying no to something else. Sometimes listening for the Voice that says, “This is the way. Walk in it,” means paying attention to the same Voice when it says, “This is not the way. Not today.”
Don’t mistake good for best.
“We stand, when we are young, on the sunny slope among the pines, and look across an unknown country to the mountains. There are clouds, but they are edged with light. We do not fear as we dip into the valley; we do not fear the clouds. Thank God for the splendid fearlessness of youth.
And as for older travelers whom the Lord has led over the hill and the dale, they have not been given the spirit of fear. They think of the way they have come since they stood on that bright hillside, and their word is always this: There are reasons and reasons for hope and for happiness, and never one for fear.”
– Amy Carmichael
Coming before God in quietness and waiting upon Him in silence often can accomplish more than days of feverish activity.
-A. W. Tozer
“To respect a mystery is to make way for the answer.”
~ Criss Jami
Resting in the Lord is waiting until we hear the Voice that speaks in stillness whisper, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s going to be alright.”
November twilight. The sun disappeared behind the hills by 4:45 in the afternoon today.
Haze from controlled burns faded distant colours. Now is the time to clear debris when the risk of forest fire is low.
Nearly all the birds have left the sanctuary. Only the crows remain, singing like an enthusiastic unpaid third-rate band willing to work for exposure.
Snow briefly gave a preview of winter’s intent, then melted in the sun. Some still hides in the shade.
Thin ice covers Elizabeth Lake like a sugary crème brûlée crust. A foot would easily break through and the mud underneath the shallow water is still soft enough to capture a shoe. On the water’s edge, kids smash the surface with sticks to see how far cracks will travel. Most of their make-believe spears pierce the ice and get stuck in the mud. Someone hollers that his feet are wet. He runs home.
And then, before the sky is even dark, the moon glows in anticipation of its watch.
It feels like the sun is giving up on the day too soon. It’s hard to watch the ending of growing season full of colour and life, but there is still beauty in nature at rest — a subtler beauty, but still beauty.
Thank you, Lord, for every sunset because every sunset brings the promise of sunrise.