My words here have been few of late. I've been praying and seeking and waiting to hear from God. It has seemed that He has been so silent for what has felt like forever. I don't like it when He seems silent, for I need Him so much. It's like a winter of sorts in my soul.
As much as I dislike seasons of quiet, these seasons remind me of what my life would be like without Him ever
near. I don't know how those who do not know Him survive. His seeming quietness leaves me breathless and lonely, and as much as I despise this feeling, I certainly would not trade this; for these feelings point me to those whispers I have heard from Him throughout my days and I can cling tightly to those for comfort. They push me to seek Him more.
Reminiscing of times I have encountered His presence, heard His voice within, felt His tug upon my heart reminds me that He loves me.
Passionately. The evidence prohibits my denial of it.
As I've compared this season of quiet to others in my life, I realized that although each quiet season I have experienced was difficult, those seasons have been the times in which He has done His greatest writing upon this paper heart of mine.
Yes, my words here have been few of late - but - I am not the only one who writes. He writes too.
He writes my story.
On my paper heart.
And He is writing it even now.
I became even more aware today that it has been in seasons of quiet that He has written out for me the most moving pages of the story of my life. Moving, not because they are written about me, but moving because of the influence He had upon those pages.
I am learning that when He is quiet, He is writing.
Pages that will soon unfold for me to read and understand.
Oh, sure, He already knows my story from back to front and front to back. Psalms 139:16 tells me "in Your book were all written the days that were ordained for me, When as yet there was not one of them."
But - I don't know that story yet. He wants me to read it.
The word written in this verse comes from an original root word which means "to grave". Grave as an action word is not one I commonly encounter, and as I looked up the definition to better understand it, the quiet no longer seemed so silent. Check out how Merriam-webster.com defines the verb grave:
1-dig, excavate
2-to carve or shape with a chisel: sculpture to carve or cut as letters into a hard surface
3-to impress or fix (as a thought) deeply
Those definitions describe exactly what it seems is going on in my family's life right now. He is digging, He is carving - did you notice the part about the letters?
A story is made up of letters written on a page. And He is definitely impressing, as it says, these days deeply upon my heart.
But, He isn't doing it because He doesn't know, He is doing it because I don't know.
Just as you do not know the path of the wind and
how bones are formed in the womb of the pregnant woman, so you do not know the
activity of God who makes all things.
Ecclesiates 11:5
No, I don't know what He is doing, what He is writing, but I know He writes, for I can look back upon the pages He has already given me and know He is there and trust that since He does not change, He is still there.
Pen in hand.
The ink dripping from its tip red.
Ink permanent and unchanging.
Jesus, His Name written on every beautiful page.
As difficult as quiet seasons may be, I will continue to trust Him while He writes my story - for I can trust Him because He authored the Greatest Story Ever Told.
What has He been writing on the pages of your life lately? I would love for you to share those special words with me.
As much as I dislike seasons of quiet, these seasons remind me of what my life would be like without Him ever
near. I don't know how those who do not know Him survive. His seeming quietness leaves me breathless and lonely, and as much as I despise this feeling, I certainly would not trade this; for these feelings point me to those whispers I have heard from Him throughout my days and I can cling tightly to those for comfort. They push me to seek Him more.
Reminiscing of times I have encountered His presence, heard His voice within, felt His tug upon my heart reminds me that He loves me.
Passionately. The evidence prohibits my denial of it.
As I've compared this season of quiet to others in my life, I realized that although each quiet season I have experienced was difficult, those seasons have been the times in which He has done His greatest writing upon this paper heart of mine.
Yes, my words here have been few of late - but - I am not the only one who writes. He writes too.
He writes my story.
On my paper heart.
And He is writing it even now.
I became even more aware today that it has been in seasons of quiet that He has written out for me the most moving pages of the story of my life. Moving, not because they are written about me, but moving because of the influence He had upon those pages.
I am learning that when He is quiet, He is writing.
Pages that will soon unfold for me to read and understand.
Oh, sure, He already knows my story from back to front and front to back. Psalms 139:16 tells me "in Your book were all written the days that were ordained for me, When as yet there was not one of them."
But - I don't know that story yet. He wants me to read it.
The word written in this verse comes from an original root word which means "to grave". Grave as an action word is not one I commonly encounter, and as I looked up the definition to better understand it, the quiet no longer seemed so silent. Check out how Merriam-webster.com defines the verb grave:
1-dig, excavate
2-to carve or shape with a chisel: sculpture to carve or cut as letters into a hard surface
3-to impress or fix (as a thought) deeply
Those definitions describe exactly what it seems is going on in my family's life right now. He is digging, He is carving - did you notice the part about the letters?
A story is made up of letters written on a page. And He is definitely impressing, as it says, these days deeply upon my heart.
But, He isn't doing it because He doesn't know, He is doing it because I don't know.
Just as you do not know the path of the wind and
how bones are formed in the womb of the pregnant woman, so you do not know the
activity of God who makes all things.
Ecclesiates 11:5
No, I don't know what He is doing, what He is writing, but I know He writes, for I can look back upon the pages He has already given me and know He is there and trust that since He does not change, He is still there.
Pen in hand.
The ink dripping from its tip red.
Ink permanent and unchanging.
Jesus, His Name written on every beautiful page.
As difficult as quiet seasons may be, I will continue to trust Him while He writes my story - for I can trust Him because He authored the Greatest Story Ever Told.
What has He been writing on the pages of your life lately? I would love for you to share those special words with me.
