Many Times, Many Ways - Part 2

Last week, Hebrews prompted me to celebrate the nature of our communicative God. It is the foundation that must underlie so many other questions—but there are other questions that come up….

My sister recently traveled to Israel, and while there met a traveling evangelist who prayed for her—very specifically, without having been told any details. She later found his website with a video of his story—quite amazing in the way that God spoke to him and through him. It sparked two things in me: a longing and a question.

I long to be so close to God that I see him and hear him in that way! Thirst! Thirst that the limitless heavens cannot quench. A thirst so great, designed for an infinite God. Thirst for a personal interaction. Desire for him. Desire for union, consummation. And even, me of little faith, affirmation that he cares that much about me. Speck me.

But like trees trying to hold the full moon, the ungrasped longing provokes questions as well. Why, why are there not more stories like the evangelist’s, where people have so clearly heard from God, where God does the impossible to communicate? Why in my dark night is there not a burning bush? Why is my friend still stumbling for answers and guidance?

After reflection, sitting inside staring out at the dark night sky pierced with light—for our good.

Our good?

But I feel alone.

Dark.

Dear Lord, I long to hear you more intimately, deeply. Don’t you want that too? But sometimes you seem silent? For my good?

Protection—sometimes we can desire the experience more than him. He will not be a cheap genie, throwing out golden tokens to delight our whims. Glory is Hebrew kabod, carrying the idea of weight, and Greek doxa, with the connotation of beauty. Importance and value, weight and beauty. This is our God. Not a genie. He alone can satisfy, rather than a mere passing experience.

An invitation—we may walk in unbelief, distraction, not willing to obey his voice if it did come. His silence and distance is then an invitation to turn back to him, to seek him with all of our heart. We often do not miss something until it is taken from us. Will we treat lightly the Word of God? God told the Israelites he would strip them and lead them to the empty wilderness—there, in the desert, he would allure them. Their need would wake them to himself (Hosea 2).

An act of grace—thus, if we find ourselves in the above, it is an act of grace—to whom much is given, much is required (Lk. 12:48). If he speaks to us, and we are not willing to obey and spurn his word, woe on us! And we long for it, but do we truly know the holiness and awesomeness of our God, before whom mountains tremble and flames of fire accompany him? Before whom death comes upon any who touches the mountain or the ark of the sign of his presence? On this side of the Jordan, who can truly see him and live? Who could touch the surface of a burning star?

A provocation and stirring—longing! Lack of water sparks thirst. Distance stirs a heart-yearning to be with. The vast heavens provoke a desire to grasp and grow beyond ourselves. And the rarity of the voice of God and the impossibles, the silence, the dark nights of the soul provoke such a longing for him. He is lifted up as valuable! We treasure light when it is dark, for then we give it value. The ancients loved the stars as light in dark, and systems of navigation to the lost. Need sparked value. May we value God! Long for him, lifting him up as our treasure!

To speak of the value of the mundane—but the beauty is our God who causes galaxies to quake and the burning sun to rise is in the minute, mundane. In a muddy manger. In a boat by the Sea of Galilee. Eating at a dinner table and cooking fish on the beach. He enters our time and space and speaks to us in the everyday circumstances, the quiet routine of our devotions, through the casual conversation with another Christian. The daily is limned in sacred beauty by the presence of Emmanuel.

Growth—without faith it is impossible to please God (Heb. 11:6). It is the ones who have not seen but believe that are blessed (John 20:29). And oh! I long to please him! This silence, lack of clear guidance, lack of definite voice is his sanctifying work for my good. Building me up in faith. Giving me what I truly need. Without the clear audible voice or the miraculous interventions that I wish would pepper each day, I grow in faith and in childlike trust. I search more deeply for him and his voice. I turn to him. A training. Is this not what I truly want? Is faith not what he truly wants? To navigate by the stars requires far more training, intent study, gazing to know the stars than to be guided by a GPS system that automatically spits out guidance. There is a greater maturity on the navigator’s part; a deeper “relationship” with the stars. So, too, a silence can cause us to grow and cause us to study his heart and his ways more.

To tune us to his heart—does a husband always bring out a megaphone and an air blimp to communicate? It shows the poor relationship if so. Is there not a much greater union of heart when husband and wife just know? May I study his ways so much that I sense him in the silence, that I don’t need those audible voices and impossibilities to know him, hear him, see him, sense my Lord with me. May his mere whisper steer my heart and feet. May his stars pour forth speech to a receptive heart. May the Spirit breathe freshly through the Scriptures because I am so tuned to him. Like the fine balance of planets and gravity dancing around the sun, may I move so in harmony with him!

Yes, for my good! To know him, his heart, deeper—rather than just the experience. May the darkness drive us to seek him! And he will be found, as certain as the stars are there, even if hidden by clouds.

“But from there you will seek the Lord your God and you will find him, if you search after him with all your heart and with all your soul” (Deut. 4:29).

“You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart” (Jeremiah 29:13).