Wither the voice


It has been a couple of months now since I stopped working. I continue with my post Superpartners routine of gym/State library/whatever. It is becoming very jaded. I recall the later Rev Barbara Darling’s sermon in church shortly before she retired and then passed away, saying how the journey for her has been one of constantly being surprised by God. In many stages of her life, events unfolded which revealed how God’s plans for her were always interesting.

I guess on good days, I sort of think that way and then check myself in to God’s waiting lounge and see if He calls for me, if He directs me this way or that. Waiting on God, to be surprised by Him and to see what His plans turn out to be can be encouraging. But it can also drive one up the wall. There are days I dread going home after leaving the library, because it would only be mid-day and I’d be staring into blank spaces at home for the next few hours, wondering what I’d do with the rest of my life. I’m hopeless when not working. Thankfully the little black ball of goodness distracts me from concentrating at blank spaces – he nudges me, sit in front of me, begs to go out, sticks his paws out to me, sometimes licking my face, and generally being a lovely pesky pet. I’d forget why I was so miserable not working, even if only momentarily.

All I want – what I seek now – is to know what I’d do in my coming days. I need to hear from Him. Alas, forget about earthquake or fire. I cant even dream of hearing that still small voice. It almost never sound. And yet, like Lewis said, my choice is still to upset Wormwood and threaten his cause.

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