Passing Days of Silence

I find these days to be extremely quiet. Spent driving and listening to soft music in the background, I don’t find myself singing along as I normally would. I don’t even find my mind wandering with thoughts. I just am. I’m one hundred percent in the moment, mouth quiet and thoughts stilled. I hear nothing and yet, in those moments is when I feel Him most. In the seconds where I go to open my mouth, I find that nothing escapes and I am resolved to just sighing and leaning back, taking in the hushed moment. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t wake up today and have my mind flooded with a million thoughts about what I should do or shouldn’t do. I just laid there, existing and in awe of my own humanness. I was enthralled with the dam of emotions that broke over me as I laid face to face with the truth of who God is and of who I am. I thought I knew Him, I thought I had wrapped a small piece of my mind and heart around His reality. I realized He is beyond all that I’ve fathomed. He is good and I see now that I don’t even always know what that means. “Good” a word that I always believed I could define; a word that I now see I don’t know the first thing about.

There are these passing spans of time that give me a glimpse of how small I am. My mind, which I’ve always believed to be quite intelligent, is really tiny in comparison to all that He knows and understands. And yet, despite my inability to grasp truth in its wholeness, He loves me and he draws near in the times that I can’t seem to put the passing days into words. I often believe it is the most human qualities that He spends His days trying to rid me of, and today I am convinced they are the things that cause him to pull me in tighter and love me with the depth that I’ve been unable to comprehend or define.

The words of John 17, an image of holes in his hands, the way a sunset sings of His glory, the unimaginable way He’s causing me to see and love people. These are the things that leave me speechless. The long, raw, gut wrenching hours that are spent with my face in my hands, asking him to teach me to love even though it appears that’s what leaves traces of agony. I find myself most amazed by how the Father hears and answers when I ask for him to teach me to love; how it continues to leave me utterly broken and indescribably grateful.

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