Not Listening

Today was a rainy day. Truly a welcome sight in the almost desert we reside in. It never reached Noah proportions, but it was looking somewhat promising for a little while.

If you work with kids at all, you are intimately familiar with, what I like to refer to as, Rainy Day Syndrome. Children worldwide can be afflicted with this temporary disorder. Symptoms begin at the first sign of a grey sky and often do not let up until the sun returns. Symptoms are general, but can include: abnormal behavior, inability to focus and greater propensity to talk out of turn.

Rainy Day Syndrome was approaching pandemic status with my (no, His) children today. I reached my monthly "shh" quota in the first fifteen minutes of class. I have never been more thankful for active learning games in all of my life. It saved us big time today.

As things began to settle down, I thought about the kids who were struggling to hear the point today. I can easily explain their actions. Kids are kids and it is hard to be locked up inside when all you really want to do is enjoy some sunshine.

But what about me? How many times in my own life have I stuck my fingers in my ears and refused to hear, I mean really hear, the message that God was laying on my heart? The answer to that question terrifies me. More often than I care to admit, I miss the point because I'm so busy trying to figure out ways to do life my way.

The symptoms start popping up. First, with abnormal behavior. When my ears are switched to "off," the out of character conduct creeps in. My Bible collects dust, my heart becomes less pliable, my feelings hurt easily.

Then comes my inability to focus. When God is trying to teach me, mold me, shape me, I see a blur instead of an opportunity to become more like Him. Life becomes hazy and the path becomes unclear.

The last symptom to present itself is my ability to speak when it's not even my turn. God isn't able to get in one word while I rattle on and on to fill Him in on my dreams and goals, and my plans for all of my tomorrows. Once this symptom appears, it becomes impossible to hear God as my own voice becomes the only noise in the room.

At this point, I find myself locked up in the middle of the thunder when all I really wanted to do was enjoy a little sunshine. Grey skies prevail. In my ambitious attempts to see the sights and taste the world, I come out broken and bruised...a sort of permanent Rainy Day Syndrome of the soul.

Life becomes a struggle to stay ahead of the storm. To beat the lightning before it can strike. In this moment, the realization that storm chasing was never my life's calling really settles in my soul.

So I get still. And listen. It takes awhile to tune back in to the Path Maker's voice when you haven't heard it in awhile. So I wait. And listen. And then I hear all of the plans He has laid for my journey and the directions down the path that He has chosen for me are whispered softly to my soul. Grey skies lift and the shining sun permeates my soul. Only then, can I really enjoy life the way He intended for me to enjoy it.

"I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of." -Jesus (John 10:10)