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.

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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.

Leanna

Sending the Seventy, Part 6: The Silence of Greeting

Now after this the Lord appointed seventy others, and sent them in pairs ahead of Him to every city and place where He Himself was going to come.

Carry no money belt, no bag, no shoes; and greet no one on the way. (Luke 10:1, 4 NASB)

"Greet no one on the way" seems like an odd command, doesn't it? Here in Mississippi, greetings, especially in public are a big deal. If you see someone you know, you greet them and chat about their families, catch up on their lives. It's considered good manners and is the way life is done here. So it was in Jesus' day. Greetings then could take as long as they do now. I enjoy the greetings that accompany a trip to the grocery or out shopping, and you probably do, too, but if we are honest, those greetings can be time consuming. Those greetings can also be a way to delay a difficult task. Perhaps you've never spent time visiting with someone when a job you dreaded was waiting, but maybe you have. If so, you know how easy it is to procrastinate in the name of good manners.

These seventy disciples were no different. Jesus knew that there would be a temptation to stop and chat along the way. They could easily spend hours greeting the people they knew, telling them about the job Jesus had given them, and discussing their big adventure, all while avoiding the difficult task ahead. Jesus sent them out as sheep, but he did not intend them to stay in a herd of fellow sheep. They needed to be on their way, going to their assigned sites, and preparing the way for Jesus. Theirs was a task that required haste. Just so we are clear, talking to our buddies about how we are going to be serving Jesus is not the same thing as serving Jesus, and that was part of the reason for His admonition. 

Matthew Henry, a 17th and 18th century theologian and commentator, suggests another reason for the instruction to "greet no one on the way." He suggests that this was a call to a kind of silence, that they might be "sober and serious". They had a difficult job ahead and Jesus knew that it could be, quite literally, deadly serious. Eventually, some of these "sent ones" would die for Him. Perhaps He was calling them to spent their traveling time in contemplation of the work ahead. 

Henry suggests that this silence of theirs was much like that described in Job 2:13, when his friends sat with him in mourning for seven days before speaking. If the "sent ones" understood the eternal plight in which the  people to whom they were sent stood, their response would naturally be grief. They were to prepare to minister by mourning the plight of the people, knowing that the good news of Jesus could change death to life, brokenness to wholeness. 

In some faith traditions, a season of silence is a powerful opportunity to focus attention on our Lord. It allows us to take a step away from the clamor of modern life and be still before our Lord. I have several friends, including a group of dedicated Protestant ministers, who enjoy annual retreats of silence. They spend the time studying Scripture and hearing from God rather than each other, and describe it as one of the most powerful times of devotion imaginable. Perhaps, during this busy season when the Advent of the Christ is our intended focus, we would do well to have a season of silence of our own. Consider the Savior who came in flesh to save us, the tasks to which He has assigned us, and those who do not know this One who died for them. As much as we enjoy the festivities, decorations, and gifts of our Americanized Christmas, the focus must be Jesus, and Him glorified. May our challenge be to spend a few minutes each day until Christmas in utter silence, greeting no one but our Lord, listening to no one but that Still Small Voice, worshipping no one but the Child born in a manger in the shadow of the Cross. 

Be still, dear ones, and know that He is God alone. 

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The link to last night's post is here: http://leannahollis.blogspot.com/2014/12/clouds-in-sky.html

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The new book, The Waiting: When the Answer to Your Prayer is Delayed and Your Hope is Gone, as well as The Clay Papers and The Road to Bethlehem (an advent devotional guide) are now available at http://www.leannahollis.com/online-store/ Get your copy today.  

The Thinking Chair

When I moved to the farm nearly a quarter of a century ago, there were some long-standing practices that were firmly in place and not subject to change. One of those was The Thinking Chair. As you can see, the thinking chair is an old wagon seat that is mounted on a very rustic frame. It overlooks our small lake and is nestled in the trees. 

The Thinking Chair is in a lovely spot for admiring the scenery, but that's not the best part. The number one rule about the thinking chair is that only one person can be there at a time, except by special invitation.  No exceptions. When someone is in The Thinking Chair, they can do anything they want, but NO ONE can disturb them. No phone calls. No text messages. No emails. No questions. No conversations. It was the rule when I arrived, and it has remained inviolate. It's my very favorite place in the world. 

As a physician, I've spent the last three decades on call and have been attached to one electronic communication device or another all those years. Someone always has access to me. Except in that chair. In that chair, I can set aside the cares of the world and all the words that accompany them. I can be still.  I can be silent. 

Still

Silent

Selah

How wonderful it is to have a place where the only objective is silence! It's the place where God's Still Small Voice is most audible because the clamor of the world has, for a few moments, been silenced. 

Not everyone is blessed with a rustic retreat, but there is no denying the need for a quiet place. This week, in the midst of the clamor and constant contact that surrounds you, carve out a few minutes to be still, to be silent. 

In that silence, listen. Simply silence yourself and listen. 

Selah. Pause and ponder.