“I wish God spoke to me.”
And I wish I understood women! And dogs! And “wandering lane drivers”! And Turkish … I would love to understand and speak the Turkish language!
I keep hearing that hope: I wish God spoke to me. Some say that hearing God is the blessing for only a few. That most do not, will not, cannot. Hear words that is. Real words. Like those on this screen.
I get the impression this is about transcripts. About scripts. About evidence. About tape recordings (or whatever the digital equivalent is). I wish God spoke to me.
So how does God speak to me?
Once in “transcript” style: as in this “script” … A few times in “imagery language” as in our “clunking loom” … And sometimes all “POW and KAPOW” as Batman and the batmobile … And sometimes a conversation I “would not and could not remember again” if I had not written it down in the moment.
I wish God spoke to me.
I wonder if we are brought up, taught, trained, educated, praised – for NOT hearing God. I wonder if we accumulate so much baggage, so many new beliefs, so many new busynesses, so much more work, lose SO much time – that we simply insulate ourselves from the very God we have given our lives to.
I wonder if having God speak to us is so freaky scary that we subconsciously block that intimacy. I would love to know if that is true. Because the verses this morning take on a new light when “God speaks to me”:
Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times. “For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made. So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt. But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, ‘Pay what you owe.’ Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’ But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt. When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. Then his lord summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?’ And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt. So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.” Matthew 18:21-35
Like as in – “Why even ask that question?” kind of new light.
Like as in an intuitive certain knowing that there is too much baggage in the way of that fella and his God. That Peter has not yet got it (not yet). That he is still thinking rules and laws and transactions and bank accounts and Conditional Love.
I wish God spoke to me. Maybe He does. And maybe placing “conditions” on my lines of communication is more of the same baggage – “the insulation” – that means I won’t.
Peter got it later – Peter heard God. The same Peter that asked Jesus: “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?”
Conditional forgiveness is good. Unconditional forgiveness is grace. Conditional hearing is me. Unconditional hearing is God and me and you and Him. Conditional love used to be okay. Unconditional love just bursts the braces, the bindings, the fences, the constraints. Unconditional is “No Fear!”
Is that the difference?