So, at this point, God isn't talking to me.
My support system is deflated.
And, I begin to wonder where I went wrong.
After all, common theory was that if you look up and God is gone, you must have been the one that moved.
Don't believe me? Well, at the time-- I even had a letter telling me so.
And while that may be the case for some (and even me later in life)-- I assure you, at the time that wasn't the case. I was desperately seeking Him.
Looking back, I wish someone would have sent me this and reminded me of Job and Lazarus and the silence they experienced.
That you should examine your life to make sure you aren't putting something between you and God, but that ultimately --no matter how much you want one--God does not owe you a response and it doesn't mean He doesn't love you.
That sometimes God uses silence to shape you.
That sometimes God's silence is a sign of trust not punishment.
That silence can be intimate.
That you should keep talking to Him.
Instead, I got judgement.
Shame consumed me.
Over what, I had no idea.
But I knew I didn't fit anymore. And, apparently it was my fault.
I wish someone had share with me the words of Oswald Chambers in My Utmost for His Highest:
"When you cannot hear God, you will find that He has trusted you in the most intimate way possible—with absolute silence, not a silence of despair, but one of pleasure, because He saw that you could withstand an even bigger revelation."
During this time something strange happened.
Even though I locked myself up deep inside, I suddenly stopped seeing people as a sum of their sins.
The "issues" that I used to fight to protect on behalf of my bubble's rights became far less important to me.
Compassion for those at the heart of those issues grew in place of the righteous entitlement I once subscribed to.
I kept thinking if I-- Lil' Miss Suzy Sunday School --could trip and fall so badly, not able to catch my footing, who was I to judge others...
I figured those folks might need my compassion more than my judgement.
And, truth be told, I now reserved all my judgement for those who were living the bubble life I once knew and loved.
And while I struggled with that new sin, I began to realize that God was giving me a gift through his silence.
He was revealing to me a view of the world I could have never seen tucked safely away in my bubble. He was shifting my perceptions and molding me into someone much different than what I was determined to be...
However, while that revelation was becoming clearer, it didn't make my nomad status with the church any easier... I was a woman without a home. A woman without fellowship. And, no matter how many ways I tried to justify it, it wasn't right.
To be continued...
Has God ever used silence to reveal something to you?