God Speaking

All she did was clear her throat as she slept in the loft above the kitchen, but the sound was as if angels were singing. Maybe I’m just a Dad who misses the sounds of his children, but because she’s my child and the sound could only belong to her, I listened with a heart filling with gratitude faster than my mug was filling with coffee.

One of the first theologians who stirred my soul was a man who awakened in the darkness of his own imperfect humanity and laid on the ground praying for God to speak. He only heard two branches hitting one another, but the CLACK CLACK was enough to stir his soul for years.

I often wonder why God keeps himself such a secret, but this morning I realized that the problem lies not with God’s silence but my listening. Too often I listen for God’s voice only in church or expect it to arrive in King James English. The fact is, God speaks all the time, in church and in the gutter, in poetic prose and broken English (and other languages), in the bright moments and dark. Whether it’s a piece of music or two branches hitting one another, a sermon or a clearing of a young girl’s throat, God speaks. 

The question is will I have the ears to hear and a heart to receive?

Violins

It sat in the store window, displayed in a stand specifically designed to show it to the public in the most complementary angle and light. Afterall, it was a violin, and not just any violin, it was a Stradivarius. With its shape and color, there was no mistaking the instrument for anything but one of the finest violins ever created.

A wealthy merchant passed by and heard the on-lookers commenting on the violin. Although he didn’t play an instrument, he knew then he had to have the violin. Trying to hide his shock over the price, he purchased it and took it home and displayed it in the stand to impress his many visitors. No one dared to take the instrument from its stand. 

Once, he allowed a visitor who claimed to be an accomplished musician to take the violin out of the stand and play, but it sounded awful. The merchant wondered if there was something wrong with the violin. It wasn’t until a famous violinist came to town and asked to see the Stradivarius that he finally heard what the violin could do. The notes filled his villa and wandered through its open windows. Soon there was a crowd below listening. Each note was as rich as the color of the wood, each melodic line as curved and its frame.

He listened to the music for the rest of the afternoon until the violinist place it back in its stand and politely thanked the merchant and went her way. He remained in his chair as if still listening, closing his eyes the way he did when tasting a special wine. It’s not enough to have a special instrument, he thought to himself. The instrument must be placed into the hands of a great musician. Then, and only then, can one hear the instrument for what it is.

Follow up questions:

In what way have you left your life in a stand, caring only about the way looks?

Have you ever taken your life from the stand and placed it in the hands of the great musician (God)?

If so, what did the music sound like? . . . If not, what kept you from doing so?

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If you would like a book of similar meditations, Spiritual Java was published in December and is available through Amazon.

Look at the Scorecard

Those who have played golf with me know this is not a card of mine!

Sitting at the table, licking my golf wounds, I bemoaned my awful round. I recalled the meltdown on hole 7 and the other on 13. “Look at the scorecard,” my wise friend instructed. Pulling it from my pocket, I saw that surrounding the meltdowns were some good holes, one that was even fantastic. I had forgotten them, distracted by the bad ones.

I seem to do the same thing when thinking about my life. I see the things I’ve done wrong, hear the things I wish I’d never said, and don’t see the good. I know I’m not unique, but my friend helped me remember to look at the scorecard and not trust my recollection of things. It doesn’t take away the bad holes, but it shows there’s more to the round.

The other foursome arrived and one of the players came to the table having just birdied the 18th hole. With enlarged chest and peacock-like strut he told us what an incredible round he’d had. My friend waited patiently for the hot air to rise before telling him to look at the scorecard. When he did, he saw that not all the holes were as good as his last. There were some bad ones, too. 

Like me, he needed to take a closer look. Our minds can tell us lies or exaggerate things, for good or ill. It’s always best to question the truths we hold to be self-evident. We might be surprised by what we find.