Nothing to Say

This week has been a good one for stepping back, being an engaged listener, and being still. I've lost track of how many days straight of rain we've had here. Spending time outdoors has been somewhat of a difficulty. It's not that I mind getting wet or muddy; it's just that it's been so cool that the combination of the cold and wet means my hands and feet will almost certainly lose feeling, making any outdoor excursion one that is short, ending with me rubbing my hands under warm running water until the blood is restored to my extremities.

Earlier in the week, I had become frustrated with a mélange of things. As I was sitting down one afternoon at a coffeeshop in front of my computer, I suddenly felt suffocated, like I needed to get out. During a rare and much-needed break in the rain, I felt the lake calling to me. So I packed up my things, and promptly drove to one of my favorite spots on the lake. I invited God to be with me on my walk and to speak whatever He would. He was mostly quiet along the way, and I walked with quick (almost frantic) steps, knowing precisely where He wanted to meet with me.

I sat on a favorite lakeside bench and simply sat. There were a few others there playing with their dogs, enjoying the brief break from the rain. I sat and waited, asking God to quiet my heart and to slow the thoughts in my mind that were competing for my attention and His. Again, He didn't say much.

Listen. Just listen.

In truth, that was about all I heard from Him that day. I can see lately that He's been drawing me into these still, quiet times more often. There are a thousand little battles going on at any given time and as I pursue Him, I suppose I can expect that the battling will not be abated. I can expect to need these moments of stillness and quiet even more.

So I sat still and listened. I felt the breeze move past my face, I looked across the lake at the steep hillside thick with evergreens, each one an arrow pointing heavenward. I listened to the water lap, lap, lap gently against the sand and rocks, simply letting myself be quiet. Moments this still are rare. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Listen.

I lost track of time; I have no idea how long I stayed. But I stayed until my heart was full and frustration had been edged out by peace.

Isn't that just like Him? I am awestruck at a God who is so powerful, a God who holds the vast universe in the palm of His hand who, at the same time is surpassingly gracious and gentle, leading me gently "to lush pastures" and "refreshing water." (Ps 23:2). Here is a God whose voice could rattle the universe simply urging me to listen.

So this is where I've been: doing a little less talking and a little more listening. Paying attention to the world outside my door, engaging in deliberate wonderment. Being fascinated by lichens. Marvelling at it all.

I think of the chorus of the song "Nothing to Say" by Andrew Peterson:

And I don't believe that I believed
In You as deeply as today
I reckon what I'm saying is
There's nothing more,
Nothing more to say

And the mountains sing Your glory hallelujah
The canyons echo sweet amazing grace
My spirit sails
The mighty gales are bellowing Your name
And I've got nothing to say
No, I've got nothing to say