Have you met the interns yet? They're pretty amazing. The following post is from Bonnie Duncan, who likes making Texas-shaped food and has never seen an impossible race she didn't want to try.
So like all mildly-tragic stories it is best to start at the beginning. I lost my headphones last night. Even worse than realizing my headphones were lost was walking to work with nothing but the piercing silence of my poor life choices.
My hand kept compulsively reaching for my phone (three times to be precise) to change the song. But there was no song playing. Only a reminder that, just as when I left my home, I still did not have my headphones.
My mind began to wander. Is this how it felt to be a caveman? I wondered. Doubtful, I concluded. Considering I just left my heated apartment, wearing a winter coat, and was pontificating these thoughts while composing my morning Tweet about the issue at hand.
After I came to the point of accepting that despite my ability to walk and search through my backpack at the same time I was not going to find my headphones, I finally considered that maybe God could use this moment to teach me something. I should be still and know that he is God, I said to myself.
Unfortunately, this revelation came after the moment of defeat. The moment where I had exhausted all of my resources and gave up hope of an alternative. The moment where God became my backup plan. And it was in that moment that I realized that I struggle with the discipline of silence.
Psalm 62:5 says, Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in him. It is in these quiet moments that perhaps we are able to hear the voice of God the best. But in a whole that never stops moving, never stops speaking, never stops achieving, it is not the noise that is my hindrance, but rather my impeccable consistency in not remaining still long enough to hear the voice of God.
Full disclosure I have never heard the tangible voice of God. I used to hear people talk about being silent to hear the voice of God. I would think, wow. You talk to God? That’s pretty cool. But the silence is less about waiting for a sound, and more about living in a moment. A moment when the sunrise stops you because you see its beauty again. A moment when you notice a group of deer hanging out in the woods and attempt to stop by for a brief chat (don’t judge, you know you want to talk to the deer too).
On my way to work everyday, the sidewalk presents two views: to the right, a highway; to the left a forest. Where I choose to look is often more reflective of my soul than I realize. Often, I trade the solitude for the hustle, and the silence for the bustle. But even in those moments of choice, God is there. I simply need to be quiet enough to be reminded of his presence.