Be Still and Know

My father-in-law received Name for Christmas. Not a new name; it’s Rob Bell’s most recent Nooma about identity. I watched it with him.

My thoughts wandered as the credits rolled. “What is my name, God? Who am I? What did you make me to be? What purpose did you design for me? How do I fit into your plan? What should I do with my life? Should I do this thing or go there or study that? What is my name?” This wasn't a new prayer, just its most recent iteration. "What is my name?"

I think God is trying to teach me the value of silence and listening and waiting.

A couple days ago I finished breakfast and felt the pull to be alone. I drove to a nearby rails-to-trails pathway and walked into the mist. It was raining, snow was on the ground, and the temperature was in the low fifties so the snow was melting fast. I kept thinking about pictures I could take of trees and fog and trail, but then I’d bring my mind back to why I was there. I had two friends I needed to pray for, and I was again asking God, “What is my name?”

About a week earlier, I was about to leave a friend’s house to see my family that had gathered for my sister’s wedding. I was in a hurry and hadn’t taken any time with God. Right as I got to the door to leave, I felt I needed to pray. As I gave the day to God, I felt the impression, “Jeff, listen to people today.”
“Sure God, I’m a good listener.”
“No, Jeff. Listen today.”
“Right, got it,” and I ran out the door.

When I got to my parent’s motel room, Animal Planet was on—bears. I was sucked in. Unlike Stephen Colbert, I think bears are larger-than-life fun.
“Uh huh, Evan, your book is nice, but I’m watching these bears fight.”
“Jeff, are you listening?”
“I’m sorry, Evan. What is your book about?”

Then Charissa tried to talk through some problems with me, but I was in another world.
“Jeff, are you listening?”
“I’m sorry, Charissa. What were you saying?”

So there I was walking in the mist and rain, listening to the shlush of my boots shuffling through the melting snow and ice, praying for my friends and for our direction.

“Jeff, I will tell you your name. I will show you your purpose. I’m not just playing games with you. I want to answer that prayer. I will answer that prayer. Be patient.”

Why is it so hard to wait silently and listen?

This morning Charissa was telling me about a friend who is taking some time to be quiet with God. Then I opened Seeking Peace for my morning reading and the day’s chapter was “Silence.” "Okay God, I get the feeling your trying to make a point here."

The chapter starts with the quote by Richard J. Foster, “The tongue is our most powerful weapon of manipulation. A frantic stream of words flows from us because we are in a constant process of adjusting our public image. We fear so deeply what we think other people see in us that we talk in order to straighten out their understanding. If I have done some wrong thing (or even some right thing that I think you may misunderstand) and discover that you know about it, I will be tempted to help you understand my action.... Silence is one of the deepest disciplines of the Spirit, because it puts the stopper on all self-justification...” (pg. 70).

Arnold goes on to point out the gift of silence and listening. “Not to react, not to revise or embellish or expound, not even to respond, but simply to listen is a gift. When we are able to be truly silent, to truly listen, then God can speak. This is a discipline. Mother Teresa points out that what we have to say is never as essential as what God says to us and through us: ‘All our words are useless if they do not come from within. Words that do not carry the light of Christ only increase the darkness’” (pg. 71).

I started this post with Name, seeing past labels and learning to be who God wants me to be. To hear that still, small voice I must be silent and listen, and so I finish with a nod to Noise. It’s probably about time for me to go take another walk in the woods.