Sunday, August 9, 2015

Hearing in the midst of clamor

"Peter said, 'Lord, are you addressing this parable to us, or to everyone else as well?' And the Lord said, 'Who then is the faithful and sensible steward, whom his master will put in charge of his servants, to give them their rations at the proper time? Blessed is that slave whom his master finds so doing when he comes. Truly I say to you that he will put him in charge of all his possessions. But if that slave says in his heart, 'My master will be a long time in coming,' and begins to beat the slaves, both men and women, and to eat and drink and get drunk; the master of that slave will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour he does not know and will cut him in pieces, and assign him a place with the unbelievers. And that slave who knew his master's will and did not get ready or at in accord with his will, will receive many lashes, but the one who did not know it, and committed deeds worthy of a flogging, will receive but few. From everyone who has been given much, much will be required; and to whom they entrusted much, of him they will ask all the more.'" (Luke 12: 40-48 NASB)

You probably know about "the best laid plans of mice and men..." I'm having a little of that today. Because I'm flying today to Portland for a writing conference, I had to get up at 4:30 and leave my house at 5 am to make my flight. Since the thought of missing my flight scares me, it's my habit to arrive at the airport in plenty of time for my flight. 

Yesterday, as I was making my final preparations, I decided that I could sleep until 4:30 and write my blog post after I arrived at the airport. It was a great idea. In theory.

I'm at the gate, surrounded by strangers who are chatting with their companions. The TV is blaring with CNN commentators waxing eloquent about the recent debates. At the same time, the overhead music is playing. There are so many words flying about, all unrelated, from so many different sources that I can't find a silent spot.

I live alone. It's quiet in my home. The "noise" I hear when I write consists of birds singing, roosters crowing, horses whinnying, the click of claws as dogs race around me.

I'd forgotten how precious silence can be until I was suddenly without it.

This morning, there's no quiet to be found. I'll write about our focus passage later, but it won't be while I'm in the midst of all this ruckus, because I need that Quiet Whisper to guide my fingers on the key board.

Hearing God's Still Small Voice in the midst of clamor is nearly impossible.

It will be a long day of flying, but I'll be looking for a quiet place later today and I'll likely write more then.

For now, look for a quiet place. A truly quiet place. Be still. Listen for the Still Small Voice of God and wait for Him until He speaks.
I'd appreciate your prayers this week as I travel and attend the conference, make connections, and see what God has planned for me this week.
Blessings, friends. I'll write again later.