I was recently given the opportunity to write an entry for an advent devotional, and that experience was what reminded me how much I enjoy writing. I thought it might be nice to share it here:
Having been only four months since I had given my life to Christ, I had no idea what I was in for. It was a men’s retreat, and what is that anyway? A bunch of men going to the mountains to hear from some author and perhaps get a glimpse of something different in their lives? This particular retreat was based on a book called “Wild at Heart” and was actually with the author; I was fortunate enough to have been directed towards this book in the infancy stages of my faith, and the string of events that got me there was uncanny. While I felt wildly out of place, I kept finding little hints that I was supposed to be there, and for some reason, it seemed God wanted me to hear this message.
Night two was based on a simple yet perplexing concept; hearing the voice of God. Now take in mind, I was new to all of this, and I had plenty of residual trauma from not only leading a life very far from Christ, but also leading a life where I had formulated many ideas about Christianity that were inauthentic and certainly negative. Here I was sitting amongst a group of three-hundred pastors and missionaries, and then there was this newbie that just didn’t get it all. Finally a time came when we were instructed to take some questions to God, we prayed together that God would help us find out who we were in that time, and we collectively asked to hear his voice. To make this easier, or perhaps more symbolic, all of the men entered into a “covenant of silence” until the next meeting that night, and we all went off to hear from the Lord.
I walked briskly out of the meeting hall of this Young Life camp and trekked as quickly as I could up the winding path into the mountains. We were already at 9,000 feet, so the oxygen didn’t come easily. The night was dark, no moon, and the camp lights quickly faded as I trekked up the hill. In spite of the cold of the early spring I had to take my jacket off; I was generating quite a bit of heat. After going for what seemed like forever, I started to continue my prayers from earlier, “God”, I whispered between breaths, “Who am I? Why did you rescue me?” I lowered my expectations and disqualified myself before even giving God a time to act, “I don’t really expect to hear your voice on this trip God, but if you really are there, then a shooting star or some sort of indicator would be nice." Having exhausted all of my energy I stopped, laid down on a bed of pine needles in the near pitch black and looked up at the stars… nothing shooting, no indicators, just silence.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, I heard off in the distance. It seemed to be coming from behind me, up the mountain, as if someone had actually made it further than me and was now coming down that same path. I waited until they got just close enough and then broke my own covenant of silence with a projected whisper towards a dark figure, “did you hear anything?” My question was met with a disappointed, “no. Did you?” “No,” I said, “I’ve just been sitting here and you’re the first sound I heard.” “I’m Jake” the stranger extended his hand and I shook it, “I’m Scott.” Jake then asked if he could join me, and we sat there on the mountain side and started talking.
Strangely enough, we couldn’t see each other’s faces, only hear each other’s voices, and in that place of darkness came an opportunity for extreme vulnerability. “What were your questions” I asked, and he shared and then asked me what mine were, and we proceeded to talk through how we thought God would have answered them, how we would have wanted him to. And in that moment, there was this crazy realization, that maybe we were actually hearing God’s voice through each other? Maybe, just maybe, God had put each of us there to share with the other exactly what God needed us to know. Then without a pause the brightest and most glorious shooting star I have ever seen went across the sky.
Malachi 3:16-18 - 16 Then those who feared the Lord talked with each other, and the Lord listened and heard. A scroll of remembrance was written in his presence concerning those who feared the Lord and honored his name.
As I read your account of that day I found myself smiling and nodding, both knowing what God was likely to be seeing you up for and recognizing parallels in my own life. Thank you for sharing this part of your journey with me and other readers. It reminded me that God is always speaking, I just need to learn to listen.
Posted by: Mark Collier | November 07, 2014 at 10:11 AM