IT WAS LATE. I felt numb. Spiritually numb. Well, give him 5 minutes, at least. But, mostly it was for me. I needed a breath of fresh air. It was dark downstairs and I left it that way. My eyes got used to it as I sat on the sofa. The quiet felt good.
It quickly became like I could hear him breathing in the stillness. It takes the silence to hear what’s always there. A bunch of stuff had gone wrong, and she had said, is he trying to tell you something? So, when I had settled into the quiet, I said in my heart, are you? Not a voice but a thought went thru my mind: not by might nor by power but by my spirit. It was very quiet and immediate.
PART OF ME THOUGHT, well how do you really know that’s him? but only a part and only for a second. Then in my heart I asked, anything else? Very quietly and immediately: cart before the horse. “Cart before the horse?” My spirit sighed. I knew it was true. Do you ever feel when you plan and think and work hard that you’re not praying enough, and when you pray you’re not planning and working hard enough? I never feel successful in balancing the two. And the imbalance seems always on the planning and working hard side.
BUT DON'T YOU HAVE TO think and plan and work hard? Again, very quietly and immediately, like a soft breath thru my mind: wait. I knew what that meant. The times when I feel the most alive, the most dependent and in-step with him, are the times when I’ve been talking with someone one-on-one and it’s about something potentially significant and I’m listening and I don’t have anything to say, but I know there’s something there to say. And I wait. And make myself willing to not say anything. And then he says something to them, but it was my voice, and I don’t really remember what I said, but I know it wasn’t me. And I wish I could live every moment like that; totally dependent on him. And it wasn’t my might or power and I waited and didn’t push my cart ahead of his horse.
IT TOOK ABOUT 10 MINUTES. I thought, he had to do that fast because I haven’t been giving him much time to talk to me lately. Now what? Another spirit sigh. Slowly off the sofa. Up the stairs. In the bed. Next to her asleep. Thank him for her. She cried the next morning when I told her about it. And the place I happened to be in my regular reading for the morning was
His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor his delight in the legs of a man;
the Lord delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love. -- Psalm 147.10-11