It’s a hurried exit. The sound of the school bell will be heard in 10 minutes. Children pile into the car and conversations flow. The early morning fog surrounds the perimeter of the car like a thick blanket as we drive along the Expressway. Her blue eyes sparkle as she looks outside the window.
“Do you see the snow on the car next to us?” I ask.
“Yes Mama.” The answer was quick and silence fell.
I break it with another question.“What you thinking?”
She replies “I was asking God if we could get snow on our car and He said Yes. Its easy to hear His voice Mum but you have to be silent to hear Him. You should try it.”
I’m struck by the words that spoke out my babes mouth…
Silence. The absence of sound in stillness.
Silence.The refusal to create sound and speak out.
Silence. A place where solitude is encountered and God whispers can be heard. It’s the place where the heart becomes attuned with the Creator and the worlds noise is hushed.
The world noise pulls, demands and robs the heart, promising to deliver more then it ever gives.
Slowly, small steps away from innocence are taken.
The character starts to be redefined by that which it bucked against when focused on Christ. The old self starts to re-clothe the new character which has been shaped by God- sin starts to grip.
When the focus is dropped, distractions happily interfere so the eternal goal becomes distorted. The eyes see with a blurred vision and a hardness towards what is right seeps into the mind.
For the past few weeks I have allowed this into my heart. The noise of sin overriding truth.
The choice to fill the quiet moments with earthly clutter…it bangs and confuses.
I sense it in my character. I hear it in my words. I feel it in my insecurities. I see it in my mothering and the way I act as a wife. The old self rises and manifests displaying the exact opposite of who I want to be. My soul is parched and I’m thirsty for the “Water of Life” to marinate me deep within. The art of discipline must be orchestrated in this very moment so rebellion stops immediately.
I thumb my bible and find the Psalms. My eyes fall on verses coated with grace and forgiveness. I sigh at His mercy and breathe in goodness with one word at a time.
“Lord, if you kept a record of sins, who O Lord could ever survive?
“But You offer forgiveness that we might learn to fear You. I have put my hope in His word.” Psalm 130 (NIV)
I leave my chair to feel the hard wood under my knees. I close my eyes as confession moves my lips. I start seeking answers for my stained heart & begin engaging with our Maker who was and is the same yesterday, today and forever. I start praising His mightiness and power. The ruggered cross vivid and real. The nail pierced hands are seen in my minds eye and gratitude spills out of my spirit. I hush my words and create an unhurried space for Him to speak… To practice the art of silence…