My first grade teacher would tell you I've always had a little trouble being quiet. She once made me sit under my desk during class because she thought I needed a reminder not to interject my thoughts at will into her lessons. It's not that I talk all the time, I just often have trouble keeping a good idea to myself. Good ideas are meant to be shared, or so thought the first grade me. Evidently, Mrs. Lindsay either didn't agree, or wasn't sure all my ideas fell in the "good" category.
I've definitely learned since then that not all my thoughts are for sharing, which is most likely on the litmus test for maturity. But, I've generally stuck to my early premise that God gave us the ability to think, imagine, and dream in order to contribute to the world we are privileged to live in, and we therefore have gifts to give by finding a way to communicate those thoughts, imaginations, and dreams. There was no stern-eyed teacher or desk in the world that could keep me down.
But, I hadn't ever factored in a season of quiet. And that's where I am now.
A season of not talking, at least in public venues.
A season of hidden conversations.
Conversations between me and the God who has not put me under a desk, but has called me to sit next to him at the front of the classroom because there are some things He wants to show me. Things about Him. Things about me. Things about what we're supposed to do together.
And all of that just adds up to a season of quietness and trust. Quiet so I can listen to what He has to say. Trust so I can believe that He means what He says.
I won't pretend this is my favorite season, but I can sense the value of it. For how can I take His words to this world if I have not heard them from His mouth?
How can I lean not on my own understanding if the only opinions I spend time listening to are my own?
And how can I join Him on His journey if I don't stop and sit when He stops and sits?
So, I'm choosing to lean in closely as He's telling the story, kicked back, with His feet propped up on a rock beside the trail I thought we were in a hurry to travel down. I'm choosing to wait. And listen.
Mrs. Lindsay would be so proud.
THE GREAT PURSUIT
2 years ago