Lately, the snow edition & God’s voice

Lately I’ve been thankful for….

…waking up early and reading words that sink deep (Beuchner)
…breakfast with the best bacon-maker out there
….a snow day
…and a snow walk
…the way each of these leaves had an icicle droplet
…the way the sky is a brighter blue the day after a snowfall than any other time of the year


While Andrew and I took our snowy walk on Saturday, we talked about this thought, explained so beautifully (and in great length!) by Fredrick Beuchner:

There is no chance through which God cannot speak — even from the walk through the house to the garage that you have walked ten thousand times before, even the moments when you cannot believe there is a God who speaks at all anywhere. He speaks, I believe, and the words He speaks are incarnate in the flesh and blood of our selves and of our own footsore and sacred journeys. We cannot live our lives constantly looking back, listening back, lest we be turned into pillars of longing and regret, but to live without listening at all is to live deaf to the fullness of the music. He says He is with us on our journeys. He says he has been with us since each of our journeys began. Listen for him. Listen to the sweet and bitter airs of your present and your past, and for the sound of him.

Do you know that one of the most real encounters I have had with God was walking out of class one afternoon? The most mundane act, and yet I heard him so clearly. I was starting to like Andrew a lot, and caught in this tension between the standing in pride of my singleness and giving in to the fact that he kept asking me to hang out and I always really wanted to. And God said to me there in that doorway, “Are you willing?” I told Andrew on this walk as we talked about when God speaks and when he doesn’t, that I immediately answered YES: stopped in my tracks and all but nodding my head in absolute agreement and submission. Yes to Andrew or yes to no Andrew.

In all of the shadows of doubt and the caves of false safety and real darkness that I have found myself in, I must remember this one thing, and so I looked right at him. Back in the doorway, I was willing to do whatever God wanted, if that meant never seeing Andrew again. Now in the middle of a snow-covered wood, there he was. God gave him to be my husband.

If there’s one thing I’m learning this year, it’s that God is not tame. He is wild, and while I fear all that he could take away from me, while I even fear His presence,

I will never fear his kindness. And I want to keep hearing his voice.


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