Musings from a fall day a few years ago...
In the foothills of the Appalachian mountains, in a small
house with a lot of people. Inside it is hot and noisy with conversation. Outside
there is a cool fall morning; yellow leaves, red poison ivy, misty and quiet.
I need quiet and
calm. I need to be near God.
There is very little human sound outside. In fact, my own
steps and movements of clothing seem a rude interruption. So I sit on a narrow,
winding strip of blacktop smack in the middle of the road. This is where the
sounds and sights greet me.
Owls, chickadees, crows, cooper’s hawks, blue jays,
flickers, pileated woodpeckers, turkeys, titmice, catbirds, chipmunks,
kingfishers, chipping sparrows, spider webs, sassafras bark, redbuds, leaves
falling, nuts dropping, goats with bells, and cows mooing. Nature can be noisy.
A hillside covered with trees, thick foliage, but a single yellow leaf falling draws my eyes. A bird jumps from branch to limb. Tiny movements,
tiny sounds.
Silence isn’t so. Is there ever silence? How can one silence
the voice in one’s mind? If there is
an absolute absence of external sound, the voice in one’s mind seems
exceedingly loud. There is no way to stop that
sound.
So, how does one guide the inner voice to whisper, to express
only valuable words or thoughts? To stay focused on the purpose before one? For
me that purpose is to listen for and be aware of God’s presence. But my own
inner voice interrupts, makes inappropriate comments, strives to change the
subject, yammers about nothing particular, and has the attention span of a five
year old.
Controlling my inner voice is difficult. It’s like there are
two personalities in there; the inner child who just loves to talk and have
attention, and the inner adult who tries to keep control. Often the child wins,
and often it is the child who learns something fascinating; the way a dew drop
magnifies the veins on a leaf, the pollen-filled legs of a bumblebee, tiny
yellow flowers and small purple asters in the ditch. But always, the adult is
listening for a deeper meaning; where is God in the small stuff, do I magnify
God in my life, am I carrying the pollen of the gospel?
Everyone decides to go on a walk; some run, some walk, some
ride. I walk but linger behind the happily noisy group until they are far
enough ahead and I can no longer hear them. Again trying to find space to be
alone with God.
If I can’t see, hear, smell, taste or touch God, with what
sense do I know Him? How do I become aware of Him?
And right there, in that moment, the Spirit whispers to both my inner-perpetual-motion-child and my seeking-calm-and-purpose-adult that it’s a "soul-sense"
the Spirit of God within that
is in tune with the Father
who provides the awesome sense that
bestows the inner surety that
when I am still
silent
and seek to draw near to God,
I will discover that
God…is…always…near.
