Part of this week’s prayerful focus on Listening to God
Shadows slip down walls when my toes slip out too. All days are inherently good days, but better days begin when I listen early. When I listen before the hours grow old, deaf.
For when I listen early, His words echo off the walls of my day.
Bare toes on bare floor, I stand at canyon’s edge, ready to cross the day’s bridge. The Living Word speaks into the chasm and I listen: “I am the Lord your God, who teaches you what is best for you, who directs you in the way you should go” (Isa. 48:17).
I linger here. Reading again, entering into His Word, my insides reverberate with His Word.
I lift up voice. For His Word stirs, rouses. Requires a response. I pray:
“Be my God, Jehovah Jireh. I repent of my arrogance, like a man who thinks the knows the way, who need not ask for directions. I confess: I haven’t the foggiest idea how to traverse this day. Direct this unsure one.”
Am I ready? I have listened. Then lingered. Then lifted voice. Now to live it. Can I contemplate the words so long that they percolate down from mind to heart, hands, feet, drip out of me?
I step out.
So the porridge sticks. The boys stomp in from the barn, bickering. The mailman drives down our gravel sideroad while my envelopes still lie on the counter. A child whines about flax in his bowl. I sigh, snap. And then a happy one comes for breakfast singing a hymn. I hear the echo. Is this Him teaching me what is best? Yes, praise. I turn that direction, smile. And ladle out another bowl.
Hours grow, racing now. Books pile, baby cries, washing machine buzzes, pot boils over, telephone rings. The bridge cracks. Where do I step? The clock chimes twelve. Time to pray. “I am the Lord your God, who teaches you what is best for you, who directs you in the way you should go.” Yes, next step.
And then time pools into quiet of late afternoon, the sun slanting across snow, windowsills, me. We strap on skis, grab poles, slide out. Wind sings through the spruce. Skis whisper to silver snow. Winter’s white canvas calls. Across the fields we glide. And His words echo again: “I am the Lord your God, who teaches you what is best for you, who directs you in the way you should go.”
Hours can be loud, deafening. A hearing aid to the soul, Scripture attunes one to The Voice that never stops speaking. Through the circumstances of each day, He continually speaks. But can we hear Him? To step into the day without listening to His Word is to hear only life’s muffled sounds, garble.
His voice echoing, we cross the day.
And ski home.
Lord, help us listen. Linger. Lift up voice. And then live it. Remind us to tune the hearing aid early.
Related Reading: Savor & Quiet Time
Photos: more ice on bedroom window, skiing on silver snow turning gold…
