Tapping the Receiver

I picked up this book called Hot Tub Religion on Friday. Basically, J.I. Packer points out that we think we're hearing from God a lot, when in fact it seems we might actually be just hearing ourselves. I know this is a point of contention among people who believe God is alive today. It's interesting because I do believe God is available to us all the time. But I have gone through seasons of hearing nothing and seasons of feeling like He wouldn't stop talking. This week I was praying and then since I've been used to seeing instant answers for about the last 6 months, I thought since I didn't see them this week God must not be hearing me. It felt like somebody put a muffler on my roof, so to speak (assuming God is somewhere and that somewhere is up).

Today all day I focused on trying to hear from Him and I spent most of the day feeling like I was tapping the receiver of a telephone. God, are you there, are you there, are you there? Then this evening, after some waiting, I asked again and I felt a small voice answer back. "Dawn, I'm here." And I realized at that point that I don't really care that much if God answers my prayers for things as long as I can know He is there. As long as I don't lose that connection.

God always uses my name. I think that's special because a lot of life is about un-naming us. Assigning us statuses, positions, roles and worth based on human factors and losing bits of our individual identities and narratives in the process. It also relieves me because I have a deep fear of going crazy, schizophrenic to be exact, and I figure I'm not if what I hear is speaking in such a rational, tender way. Then I know it's God. But then again, how do I know for sure it's not just my own voice placating me? I think because I would never speak to myself using my own name (It sounds childish to me: "Dawn, go do the laundry now." Yeah, I would never say that.) And I also know it's not me because it is always simple and loving and almost all of the conversations I have with myself are highly complicated and extremely un-tender towards myself. I just recently began to realize this when I've been spending time alone and I find it very upsetting. I'd like to say I'm working on it, but part of it is my past and part is just my personality and I haven't really gotten to the work phase yet. But I hope that God will continue to break into my consciousness in a way that allows me to look at and understand the cruelty and confusion with which my mind handles my thoughts. Because it's bad.

And contrary to the relentless tenderness of my Savior.