Sometimes we just don’t even know where to begin.

It’s one of the reasons we wait to make that phone call.  You know, the one to the friend who lives just too far away.  Or the brother whom you miss, but so much time has gone by you’re not even sure what you’ll have to talk about.  Or the uncle who lives an ocean away and doesn’t realize his sister can’t recall his name and has forgotten he is still there – just a phone line away.

It’s the reason we stop trying to make new friends.  There’s just too much to explain and the stories that made us are so many and so far behind we don’t have the energy to put them into words.  There’s nothing like old friends and sometimes the new faces we meet remind us so much of a long gone friend, we can’t bear to visit the time again.

Sometimes we don’t know where to begin because it all begins with small talk.  And we are tired of small talk.  Small talk takes big effort and we just get tired.  And sometimes we become allergic to small talk.

The breath gets caught in our throats and we just don’t think we can form one more sentence about the heat, or the weather, or the schools, or the neighborhood, or the state of the world.

Everything is fine. It really is.

There is not one thing in this broken world for a well-fed, clothed, sheltered soul to complain about.

Especially a soul with six healthy, happy children.  This woman with a loving husband.  This educated woman with friends and family and a good life.

Not one thing.

Except for Alzheimer’s and cancer.

And the fears that come with raising kids in this mess of a world.

Then why on this spinning orb do we find ourselves revolving around distress?

What do we do when the doubts, the fears, the guilt, the regrets just won’t let us go?

What if we turn time and time again to the heavens, beating fists against a Holy Chest, and we get – not one word?

Where can we retreat to plead in silence and solitude when the noise and the voices and the rage burn just outside the thin doors… threatening to engulf us all.

What happens when we aren’t quite sure if we believe… enough?

How can we die to ourselves and become like Him when we lie to ourselves?  We don’t even know what to die to.

I am tired. Mostly I am tired of my own voice.  The reel-to-reel loop of real life.

I wonder what I would have to say if no one were listening?  The words we toss out into the air we know are bound to be caught. I have tossed the words out again and again, just waiting for His response.

And, silence.

Then, a thought. Oswald Chambers has said,

God’s silences are His answers. His silence is the sign that He is bringing you into a marvelous understanding of Himself.

Silence. In the silence we take our inward turned eyes and look… out.

Introspection. The constant mulling, dwelling, analyzing, deciphering, and re-deciphering. The constant me. me. me. is the chain link fence. This fence restraining us while our clamoring fingers wrap around the barbed links and grasp at Him.  And all the while, we dig our feet into the self-centered dirt.

The silence.  In the silence He has begun to cut away the fencing.  A hole appears just large enough to push an arm through.  Then, a leg.  Then the whole self.

Look out. Not in. In the silence a most startling whisper can appear.  When we finally crumble and ask,

What do I need to let go?

Fingers bleeding and clawing for the Truth.  The silence is suddenly interrupted with two words no more audible than a single exhale,

Your plans.

The startling truth. The one thing we force Him to pry from our aching hands. Our own plans. They’ve been in the way all along. We insist,

But they are good. Hear me out. My plans are just so, well… planned.

He must laugh knowing the plans firmly clasped in our sweaty palms are the very plans keeping us from the other side of the fence.

The awkward, misshapen plans are the very barrier keeping us from this marvelous understanding.

Sometimes in His silence, He waits for our open palms.

And, finally, He can pull us through… and bring us right into Him.

 

Job 42:2-5

I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted. You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?’ Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know. “You said, ‘Listen now, and I will speak; I will question you, and you shall answer me.’ My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.