Are You There, God? (It's Me, Christy. . . )
I talk a lot. A whole lot. To my friends, my family, my mom, my kids. I talk on the phone, I talk on the treadmill, I talk in my sleep. I talk to strangers in the grocery store, to the person next to me in any line, and to any cashier, waiter, waitress, delivery person or crossing guard who will talk back. I just never know what I might learn. I talk to God all the time. I'd like to think that I'm not talking when I'm only asking for things, but sometimes I fear that's the case, and I'm pretty sure that I'm not alone in this predicament. But it was after the Ash Wednesday church service, when God talked back to me, that I started talking to God just a little bit more.
It wasn't a loud, echoing, booming voice that answered me, or some small, faithful whisper that I wasn't sure about. Nope— I had a fight with God in my head during a church service. And for perhaps the very first time, I experienced what it was like to engage with God in true conversation, to give actual words to what God might be thinking in response to my side of a conversation. Was I voicing words for God in my head? I don't think so. . . it was happening awfully fast, even for me, a quick talker, to come up with two sides of this fight.
The sermon was asking me to lay down my burdens at Jesus' feet. To forgive my neighbors. To repent and turn to God. Forgive.
"I can't lay it down, God."
"You can."
"I can't."
"You can."
"I'm not ready to forgive."
'You will be."
Where were these words coming from in my head? They were popping in faster than I could answer them.
"Jesus, I'm not able to . . ."
"You will be. I'll help you."
Then again, today, a conversation with God, on a plane. I am being lifted into the air, a moment when I always pray, always ask for God to intervene, to carry me safely. Who doesn't, really? But today, there are several prayers on my heart, for friends, for family, and before I can get the words out, I am hearing answers ringing in my head, drowning out the sound of the plane's engines.
"Watch over this flight, God,"
"I am."
"And for my. . ."
"It's all going to be fine."
"And. . ."
"I'm carrying this for you."
Is that a smile in God's voice?
I couldn't help but think that while I was lifted into the air, I was being spiritually lifted. Filled. I had a vision of God's hands cupping that plane, and I know that from now on, when I fly, I will remember that feeling.
I start to think if God is ready for conversation, ready to pick a fight with me during church, then what about all the pointless stuff that goes on in my brain? There might be no room for negative self-talk anymore. Maybe God won't let me get a word in anymore, anyway. And wouldn't THAT be great? A chat with the Lord instead of nonsense? I'll take it.
And then I wondered this: maybe God has been talking back to me all along, but I haven't been ready to hear. Have I talked over Him? Interrupted Him? Missed His answer in the chaos of the world? Whatever the reason, I'm ready to listen and learn now. And I'm certain He has more to say.
Wow!
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You have done it again...I am waiting for you to publish the entire "Journey" book! I have been on a spiritual journey since leaving SW, I would like to share some of my thoughts with you sometime, Christy. Perhaps we can do lunch one day. I would love that!
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Lovely meditation, and inspiring.
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