Saturday, November 24, 2018

A scan and a question

I remember with sweet nostalgia the beautiful, expressive voice of Ethel Barrett as she retold Bible stories and others, like Buzzy Bee! My sister, brother and I used to listen to these stories on records as children. My favorite was the telling of Elijah and the Still Small Voice.

I Kings tells the story of how Elijah faced a crowd of false prophets and won a huge victory for God on Mount Carmel. But one threat from Queen Jezebel, sent him running for his life. He hid in the mountains and asked God to take his life. He felt alone and spent. And God spoke to him in that hiding place.

"WHAT ARE YOU DONG HERE, ELIJAH?"


In the past weeks, I have celebrated 60 years of life, 34 months of cancer survivorship and, yesterday, a clear brain scan. HUGE reasons to dance and rejoice! But, like Elijah, one threat about a grandchild's health and my own uncertain pains have pushed me to a hiding place, cowering in a corner with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Holding my breath.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, NANCY?"

God's voice was not in the wind of adversity. It was not in the earthquake shaking my plans. It was not in the fire of fear that threatens to consume every part of me. It IS in the sound of gentle blowing on this Saturday morning alone with Him.

Dear friend, there WILL be great, strong wind, earthquakes and fire in our lives. How do we not become distraught and overcome with the swirling elements? One way I have found is to INTENTIONALLY SEEK HIS GENTLE AND QUIET WHISPER. In this season of busyness of the holidays and family gatherings, cookie bakes, and all things "Christmas", I encourage you to be intentional with your time with God. It's the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit that gives strength and courage and vision and purpose.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, MY CHILD?"

I want to be about doing my Father's business! With whatever strength I may have.  For however many days that may be. Yes, and amen.







1 comment:

I am a Poem

  A new day beckoned and I awoke With a dream to write a poem When the new day spoke: "I am a poem", said the day. "I will be...