hope|sounds

I think if Ellie were a person, she would not be the "popular" one. She would probably not be anyone's "first choice" of a friend or even acquaintance. Her quiet, pleasant disposition often causes her to go unnoticed. So, this caused me to take inventory, if you will, of people in my life that are just "there" - the more quiet, subtle one's that don't make a fuss of things and push to have their voice heard but have volumes to say. I wonder if I gave Ellie the chance - I mean if I really sat down and intently listened and was genuinely interested in her perspective - to speak, what would she say to me?

I'm actually a little haunted by the idea and I'm often grateful that she can't speak. Because the truth is, she's with me every day, everywhere I go. She see's what some people never see - the real me, behind closed doors. I guess I should be encouraged, I mean, she's "seen it all" and hasn't left me yet (of course, then again, she doesn't have much of a choice). But if, one day by some miraculous Moses-and-the-burning-bush moment, she COULD speak to me, I fear what she might say. Would she state the facts, plain and simple, of how terribly I care for her? Or how I hardly acknowledge she exists sometimes? Or how I leave her places sometimes with no regard to how that affects her? Or that I just brush off her presence because I'm too wrapped up in what I've got going on? Or that I don't see the "importance" sometimes of her presence or thoughts or do not recognize the value of her wisdom?

I wonder...

Observing some of the people God has placed in my life right now, I have to say that I've noticed something. It's the quiet ones that often possess the most clarity, wisdom, discernment, patience, endurance, love, honesty, and power (from my perspective).

I am reminded of Cynthia Pickney - an amazing woman of God with a genuine heart for the homeless/poor/needy (and the "work" to support the "faith"). I remember when I first met her, she walked into the room with this quiet confidence that changed the entire atmosphere. As we sat in a group meeting, I became internally rather impatient with another group member that seemed to be rambling about their personal accomplishments and I remember looking at her to see her reaction. She was calm, quiet, dignified and humble. This blew me away and caused a great admiration of her to rise in my heart. It's not that she didn't recognize her voice or the authority she had to in a moment shut down the arrogant talk of the group member, she just had a quiet confidence and trust in God that He was so much bigger than the situation and that He would take care of it regardless of her involvement.

I've been "waiting" on God for a while now, and I'll tell you, so far it hasn't gotten "old". I've realized that when I recognize I am in the presence of God, I don't need to say much. In fact, I don't need to say anything at all.

Yesterday, Ed posted a blog about holding our own personal "vigil" and waiting, even unto the hours of the night when I should be sleeping.

Last night I was very tired but so hungry for the Word. I've been simultaneously reading Matthew 6 and Psalm 42 lately and I wandered to the 1st verse of Ps. 42 again late last night. "As the deer pants for the water, so my soul pants after you..."

I can't seem to get past this. I've heard this verse hundreds of times, but I realized last night that I have honestly never seen a deer "pant" after water. Sure, I've seen a deer drink from a brook, but it was more of a casual, calm, almost routine drink, not a desperate panting. Has anyone ever seen a deer "pant"? Maybe I'm reading too much into this, but I'm struggling to identify with this particular metaphor. Sure, there have been times/seasons in my life (like last night) where everything in me literally yearned after God. But like a deer? Like a really thirsty deer? So as I've meditated more on this, I've really tried to focus on the only mental picture I have of a deer drinking water. It wasn't gasping or frantically trying to drink before it died or something, but it was more like it understood that even when it wasn't in desperate need (like it had just finished running from a predator or something), it needed a drink. Maybe it wasn't even thirsty? It just knew it would need a drink to sustain itself.

"Pant" here in Hebrew means to long after, desire.

Ps 42:2 "My soul thirsts for God, for the living God..."

I think it's interesting that the deer knows exactly where to go when it "thirsts". It doesn't hope that man will walk by, consider it, and give it something to drink. It doesn't frantically search the forest or field for some little pocket of water. It's almost like it instinctively knows where a water source will be and has full confidence looking ahead that it will be able to drink deeply and satisfy itself.

So this is what my personal "vigil" has been looking like - acknowledging that God is my endless, unfailing, instinctive supply of all that I need to satisfy and acting upon this knowledge by pursuing first this "supply" (what is instinctive) instead of other "avenues" of potential supply.