Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Seven Thousand More

I was thinking last night about another Led Zeppelin song from my garage band days, “Communication Breakdown.” It’s a great song if you like Zeppelin, but it’s a part of my past that isn’t a part of my here and born again now. What I was really thinking about was the problem with communication – that we have so many times when we don’t communicate well with other people for one reason or another. And when communication breaks down, all kinds of other things start to break down too.

When I was growing up, we had letters and cards you could send by regular mail or give to someone or leave them in their locker at school if you wanted to do it anonymously. We had notes we passed, or had someone else pass for us. We had telephones, but a lot of times we didn’t use our family’s phone – for some reason that was off limits even for local calls unless you got permission, and very often you didn’t want to ask to use the phone because then everyone in the house would know who you were calling. That was ok if it was your friend down the block who had invited you for dinner, but if it was a guy you liked, no way. And if he called you and everybody knew about it, that was torture too. But of course you did want to get calls, you just wanted a little privacy for crying out loud, and that was impossible if you came from a family like mine that lived in a house that had walls with ears and was full of people listening in all the time.
We had secret signs and nicknames too – people you wanted to talk about and you didn’t want anyone to know you were talking about them – usually some guy you liked, but sometimes it was a teacher you wanted to complain about without anyone but your friend knowing. And then there were teachers you almost had a crush on – or maybe you just really liked or admired them – but you didn’t want anyone to know you did so you’d give them a code name so you could talk about them freely but privately.

But with all this code talking and note passing and telephone game playing, we somehow seemed to communicate much better back in those good old days before the internet and texting and cell phones. Now people can be reached in all kinds of ways, but we can also disappear in plain sight. I’m not a fan of texting at all – email is a bit better, but it has the same flaw – you can write to someone and they might not reply or they might misunderstand, and what you write is very different than what you’d say to someone. Just hearing someone’s voice can make all the difference in the world about how you speak to them and what you hear them say to you. Texting is a particular annoyance of mine because I like to write and use words and texting is so short – you really can’t say much, and what you do say could mean just about anything. I like a good old fashioned phone call, and I like seeing someone face to face even better – that is if I'm communicating well with them – if I'm not and it's gotten difficult to deal with them, I don’t even want to email them because email can become vitriolic if people have gotten to the point of not caring what they say to you. But a good old fashioned conversation is to me the breath of life. I miss the fact that we don’t do as much of that any more, and I find in the work that I do that other people miss it too. Yesterday in one of my classes I suggested that people take each other to different food pantries and soup kitchens as a social outing, and they liked the idea a lot. It’s community building which is something not a lot of people bother to do any more, but it’s part of human nature to do things with other people at least sometimes, and even though I know I need my solitude and enjoy it, “face time” as they call it in the business world is something that is a rare and precious commodity.
There are times when I am talking to God that I ask Him if I could just see His face. I know that’s not something that’s going to happen, but sometimes I ask anyway. It’s usually when I really need encouragement, when things have me feeling very low, and I’ll say to Him, “I do trust you, but it would help if you could just come here and sit with me like a regular person would.” But that’s not really what I want when I really think about it. What I really want is to have Him come in all His glory and prove to me that He really exists. In John 20:28-29, after Jesus has risen from the dead and His disciple Thomas has said that he will only believe that He has risen if he sees His hands and can put his hands in the wounds, and if he sees His side and can put his hand in the wound there also, Jesus lets Thomas do what he has asked and Thomas says, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus then says to him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

I have had times in my life when God has shown up that I have caught my breath and said, as Thomas did, “My Lord and my God!” It is at times like that when I am awestruck with wonder at the beauty and power and glory and love of God. But even though I have had those times, I still have other times when I ask Him if He would just come and sit with me, just show me that He is real – I have seen His glory, and yet I still wonder.
There are times when I am waiting on a promise, when He has been talking to me all the way through the time that He is asking me to wait on Him, that even though I hear His voice clearly I still want some kind of miraculous sign. But God will very often come to us in the silence and the stillness, and speak with gentle and quiet words the things that our hearts need to hear.

In 1 Kings 19:11-13 when Elijah has run away in fear from Queen Jezebel because she wants to have him killed, the Lord speaks to him, “Then He said, ‘Go out and stand on the  mountain before the Lord.’ And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice. So it was, when he heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle, and went out and stood in the entrance of the cave. Suddenly a voice came to him, and said, ‘What are you doing here, Elijah?’
What a question at a time like that – I would have been thinking, what do you think I'm doing?! Elijah answers God, “I have been very zealous for the  Lord God of hosts; because the children of Israel have forsaken your covenant, torn down you altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left; and they seek to take my life.” I think Elijah was very calm in his answer – I would have been thinking how can you ask that question? They’re trying to kill me! I’m hiding for my life! But there was something in the way that God spoke to Elijah, even when He asked a question that He knew the answer to, that helped Elijah to return to God instead of running away in fear. And when God answers Elijah, He tells him, “Yet I have reserved 7,000 in Israel, all whose knees have not bowed to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him.” You are not alone, God tells Elijah – not only are there more people like you, there are 7,000 more.

There are times when it seems that my communication is breaking down all around me, with people I love and people I know and people I have to communicate with. I feel sometimes like I don’t have the tools to communicate in the way that people are asking me to, that somehow I have lost something in the translation. But God has a different way of communicating – He’s not going to text me or email me or call me up, He’s not going to come into my apartment and sit down for a cup of tea, even though I’d really like it if He would. But His communication, even though it’s different than what I’m used to and different than what I’m expecting is good communication all the same. He gets His message to me loud and clear in ways that I can understand and know are from Him. And the most important messages He has for me are the ones that tell me I’m not alone. If there are 7,000 more still standing for Him, then I can keep standing too.
Blessings,

Jannie Susan

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