The Most Glorious Voice of God

     The Lord spoke to me in the most beautiful voice this morning.  It was the voice of a father to his dearly loved daughter, in a gentle and sincere tone as if picking her up while weeping after a fall.  This voice did not come to my ears as my human body would expect.  Instead it seeped beneath my bones and into the depth of my heart.  My spirit heard the words and translated them in a way beyond my fragile understanding.

     After a period of walking through a shadowy valley (and Lord Jesus, I hope I am coming out of it),  I finally had a moment of quiet to myself.  As I considered where to start with my newly acquired time, I decided to come to the Lord to ask for His direction.  I know He cares deeply about every moment of my life.  He even knows the number of hairs on my head (Matthew 10:30).  So, guided by the remembrance of both His omniscience and His love for me, I lit the candle on my desk and pulled out the all-but-forgotten journaling Bible and my colored pencils.

   "I'm here, Lord, and I'm listening," I prayed, and flipped open the front cover.  I was about to journey down a road of doubt and guilt thinking that maybe what I should do is sit completely still in waiting for the Lord.  That thought was quickly tucked behind me as I reasoned, "No, I will just turn the pages and see where I land."

     With one flip, I opened my Bible to a section just slightly askew from the rest of the pristine pages of the newly bound book.  I had turned to one of my favorite verses.  It was the first verse I had ever memorized as a new Christian:

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.  In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.  - Proverbs 3:5-6

     Being that it is such a popular verse, there was a blank coloring section in the margin awaiting the marks of the reader/artist.  "Rainbow would be nice," I thought as I contemplated the heart illustrated around the word 'heart' in the verse.

     Read the rest of the chapter.

     I felt the words tugging me to action.  "Yes, I should read the rest of the chapter to see what the context of this verse is."

My child, it began.  I heard the words more deeply and intimately than I had ever experienced before...  The simple words My child stuck out to me on the page.  They were not just an introduction, but a proclamation of who I am... A child of God.  The voice continued:

...never forget the things I have taught you.
store my commands in your heart.
If you do this, you will live many years,
and your life will be satisfying.

     The word satisfying rested a moment in my mind until my soul relaxed.  How I longed for a life that felt satisfying.

Never let loyalty and kindness leave you!
Tie them around your neck as a reminder.
Write them deep within your heart.
Then you will find favor with both God and people,
and you will earn a good reputation.

     Aha! God was accessing his knowledge of my desire to be a people-pleaser...

Trust in the Lord with all your heart;
do not depend on your own understanding.
Seek his will in all you do,
and he will show you which path to take.

     More than taking this moment to tell me how to spend my day, God was speaking into the purpose He had for my whole life.  Yes, he cares intimately about each moment, but he cares so much more about how and where all the moments strung together are leading!

Don't be impressed with your own wisdom.
Instead, fear the Lord and turn away from evil.
Then you will have healing for your body
and strength for your bones.

     Oh how I longed for my body to be healed... Healed of the anxiety of the unknown and lack of control I have over my own life.  I longed to be healed of the heavy weight of depression when the realization of my futile ways sets in and takes over all attention in my mind.

Honor the Lord with your wealth
and with the best part of everything you produce.
Then he will fill your barns with grain,
and your vats will overflow with good wine.

     Everything jumped off the page at me, and called to mind my God-given passion for writing, and the ministries God had entrusted to me.  I felt Him say that those things must come first before fulfilling my desire to have everything else appear perfect.  God knew the other things I needed and desired, and was more than capable of giving them to me without my straining after them.

     I was so thankful and receptive of the grace-filled reminders given so far, but was yet unprepared for the words God had for me next:

My child, don't reject the Lord's discipline,
and don't be upset when he corrects you.

     The tears began to well in my eyes.

For the Lord corrects those he loves,
just as a father corrects a child in whom he delights.

     The tears were flowing freely now.  Just two days prior I had sat next to my husband in a moment of weakness confessing that I felt upset that God was allowing this shadowy time to continue despite my prayers to take it away.  I told him that I knew God had a reason, but it would be better if I could at least know what it was, and what I needed to learn.
   
     Who am I that the Creator of the universe would consider me?  That He in his divine provision would see fit to reach down into the depths of my being and whisper to me, This is all because I love you.  You are my child.  I have so much more for you than what you can even imagine.  The simple answer is that I am loved.
   
     It was more than my heart could take, and my parched soul was refreshed by the inevitable tears that occur after coming so close to our indescribable God.

     I will etch the memory of this beautiful appointment with God into the fragile, broken sinews of my heart.  Oh that every opening of my bible would meet with such nourishment to my soul.  And all of this simply because God met me in my feeble attempt to wait and seek Him.

Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. -Matthew 7:7

When Love Broke Through

I can still remember the smell of the interior of the 15-passenger van I climbed into that day.  It was sky blue and had the words, "Pine Lake Christian Church" printed neatly along either side.  My friends and I crammed our suntanned legs against cushioned seats and hard plastic consoles to fit everyone into the same row.  Our overflowing duffel bags had been stuffed into a Uhaul box trailer and hitched to the back of the crowded van, but at our feet was stashed anything a teenage kid could conceive of to need for the next 8 hours of our trip.  Their contents began to spill out before we even left the parking lot.  The spicy, cheesy scent of Doritos wafted above the noise as a new bag puffed open and was passed from one row of ravenous kids to another.  Earphones muffled the music blaring from a few cd Walkmans.  

"Does anyone else need to use the restroom before we go?" Karl cautioned, turning around in the drivers' seat.  He took our ignoring his question to mean, "No," and pulled out of the parking lot.  In the passenger seat, Jill cranked up the already straining AC.  The outside temperature was somewhere between 90 degrees and surface-of-the-sun; typical of northeast Ohio in July.  Being the older kids, we quickly flashed our seniority to claim the newer, air-conditioned van to start out, ignoring the fact that our turn in the ancient, less climate-controlled 15 passenger van would be the return trip.  Like many other teenagers, all we cared about was the here and now.

Watching rows of sweet corn begin to swirl by outside the windows as we picked up speed, I took a moment to contemplate the journey ahead.  We were headed to a Christ In Youth conference in Elizabethtown, PA.  I gazed around the van at the other passengers.  Squished next to me were a few of my best friends.  They were people who knew (seemingly) all my secrets and put up with me anyway.  The others I knew from youth group meetings.  We would pass in the hall on the way to and from the restroom or kitchen of the church, but I wouldn't say we were that close.  Karl and Jill sat in the front of the van casually going over details of the trip, while smiling and laughing at the goings on behind them from time to time.  I really respected them.  They were sort of like teachers or older siblings but also kinda friends at the same time.  Mostly I knew they loved God and wanted to teach me about Him.

All of this got me thinking about me.  I didn't grow up in church.  Yeah, my parents took me a few times when I was a toddler, and I had been to VBS here and there, but I was never really a part of a church.  I had learned enough about this church stuff, though, that I figured at some point I was going to feel the need to have a sort of confession.  Something about all that God business makes you feel like you have to come clean. You know: you feel guilty enough about all the bad stuff that you did that you would end up spilling your guts.  Well, I didn't like the sound of that.  MAYBE it would be okay with my best friends, but not really in front of the younger kids I didn't know, and DEFINITELY not in front of Karl and Jill.  What would they think of me?  I was pretty proud of the squeaky-clean image I seemed to emit.  I wasn't one of the popular kids, and I had tried and failed as an athlete, so if I wasn't the "good girl" who always got straight A's and never got in trouble, then who was I?  I quickly bowed my head and prayed a band-aid prayer, "Dear God, please forgive me for all the bad stuff I did. Amen."  There.  Fixed.  Now I could get onto the business of a week of fun with my friends.  What could go wrong?

The next few days were filled with typical youth group stuff.  There was "Hawaiian shirt day" when we all pretended to be from some place far more tropical than the Midwest, and "sundress day" when we dressed as cute as we could while still being in line with the dress code. (Does your skirt go past your fingers when your hands are at your side?)  We swapped jokes, and makeup, and secrets, and even flirty glances at the boys from other churches.  But in between all that, something supernatural was happening.  We were worshiping God.  I mean real, actual worship.  The band was amazing, and the lights and speakers made us feel like we were at a rock concert.  But for Jesus.  It was the coolest thing I had ever been a part of.  Daily we would break up into our small groups, crack open our Bibles, and talk about the lesson of the day.  It was nowhere near as boring as I had anticipated.  I started to think that God really is all about love, and even cooler, that He loves me no matter what... Even with that long list of stuff I didn't really want to reveal to the rest of the group.  

Then one day during a particularly awesome worship time, something happened.  Tears started streaming down my face.  I felt as if the words I was singing were being sung directly to Jesus.  I closed my eyes and I could see Him standing in front of me grinning.  "Create in me a clean heart, O God," I sang.  And I meant it.  

After worship we filed into a classroom and sat in a circle for our small group time, like we usually did.  But this time was different.  As we began to share with the group, my heart felt oddly open.  I raised my hand to share, and before I knew what was happening, I was confessing the deepest darkest places in my soul. I told about how I had done things I knew were wrong.  About how I dated all the wrong kinds of boys and what happened when I did.  I began to cry again as I admitted my sins.  I wasn't just confessing to my friends around me, I was placing all of my sin at the foot of the cross.  And when I had emptied myself of that heavy load I'd been carrying, I realized how much better I felt.  Surprisingly, as I looked around the circle I saw faces full not of judgement, but love.  Then I looked at Karl, and he was beaming.

As we piled out of the classroom to head back to the dorms before dinner, Karl pulled me aside.  He took me by the shoulders and looked me in the eye.  "You are amazing.  I'm so proud of you.  God is going to do great things in your life."

The rest of the week was full of a bunch more of the same fun youth group stuff: more pranks, more makeup, more friendship, more belly laughs, less sleep... More life lessons, more worship, more bible study, more Jesus.  At the end of our trip, the "elder" kids piled into the old church van, finally feeling the weight of our travel decisions.  We drove home through slowed traffic and, if it was even possible, hotter temperatures.  We collapsed over bench seats and the dirty carpet of the van out of sheer exhaustion and near heat stroke.  But as the worship music poured out of the antiquated radio, a tiny breeze brushed against my cheek as I fell asleep.  It was the most peaceful I had felt in a long, long time.