I went to bed early, feeling scared . . . and alone.
He woke me like a lover in the middle of the night.
I remembered that I’m reading about the lifestyle of my possibly imaginary Friend, Jesus Christ, and how the first of His practices that I want to emulate and relearn or learn for the first time, maybe is more true, the practice that the Gospels record was the most important to Him that He desired it more than food or human company or maybe even His next human breath was . . .
silence . . .
solitude . . .
with His Father . . .
I was still so scared in my heart . . . in my mind . . . in my soul . . .
that I got up in the dark . . . in the quiet . . . in my room . . .
and sat in a chair,
and I thought, “Speak, Lord . . .
your servant is listening.”
You know what I heard?
Nothing, but . . .
my intestines “singing,”
street traffic through the bathroom window in the distance,
the thoughts in my head,
no “still, small Voice,”
no Word(s) from Him,
relatively speaking, nothing.
So I got up, closed Karen’s bedroom door, went to my chair in our living room where I have my Bible and this book I’ve been reading.
I read some boring passage in Exodus about the making of the Ark and the Tabernacle, which I know is not supposed to be boring, but it is to me, but I read it anyway, skimmed it really, wished that I was as gifted and skilled as the artists and craftsmen who the LORD ordained to do this holy work, checked off my chapters on my daily reading guide, reached for the book about apprenticing with the Master, practiced some more silence with G-D and solitude . . . not isolation, mind you . . . with Him and thought some more about what’s ahead.
You know what came to mind?
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