Day 59
Just Between Us
I’ve never actually heard a Porpoise. Frankly, they’ve never heard my voice either. There’s just too much noise from the waves crashing between us. People have the same problem with God. Let me explain.
We live in a terribly noisy world. Most people I’ve talked to blame the noise around them as the primary reason they don’t take time out to speak to God or listen for His voice. That’s really just an excuse. Some people actually prefer explanations for the things they don’t do that involve variables they can’t control (“Hey, the world’s too noisy! What can I do about that?”). People rationalize their excuses. As one author says, “To rationalize means to do something wrong, and then invent reasons to justify it. We use our intelligence not to figure out the right thing to do, but to make clever excuses for having done the wrong thing” [i]
I’ve found that when you really talk to people about not talking or listening to God, it actually boils down to the fact that it’s the noise inside them from their past, present or future that’s the real culprit. It’s the shame from the past, the chaos of the present, and the uncertainty of the future that truly creates the entire internal ruckus. These folks actually wonder if God can actually hear them, and whether or not He really cares about anything they would have to say to Him. I’ve talked to many people who believe that they have been cut off from God by some of the things they have either done or things that have occurred in their lives. Some believe He’s just not listening. Others wonder if He is really there and whether or not He actually speaks to us.
Mark had been living with us for about a month, attempting to get back on his feet. He had a construction job that he was good at. His employer was delighted that he had made it to work every day in the past four weeks. Mark was becoming more confident about his ability to get his life together.
One Saturday afternoon, he asked if I would be kind enough to return a camera to his mother. This was no ordinary camera. It was expensive. Mark had borrowed the camera from his mom a few months ago. He pawned the camera at a local pawnshop to support his out of control lifestyle. He had saved enough money from his job during the last month to get it out of hock. I agreed.
As we approached Mark’s mother’s apartment in my car, Mark revealed that it had been months since he had even talked with his mom. He went on to share that he wasn’t welcome in or around her home. “There seems to be something insurmountable that separates us,” he said. When I asked what this was, he replied, “it’s just between us,” as he blankly stared out the passenger window of the car.
I knocked on the door to Mark’s mother’s apartment. A male voice inside the apartment asked who I was and what I wanted. I told him that I was someone who was helping Mark and was here to return a camera he had borrowed from his mom. I could overhear some mumbling inside the apartment. The door opened and a male nurse in a white uniform said, “Please come in.”
Once inside the apartment, I was struck by something very strange. There was one stuffed chair and a television on a stand in the living room. Nothing else. No artwork, pictures, lamps, end table, couch…nothing. The flickering picture on the television, which had been muted, illuminated the room. It was mid-afternoon. All the windows were covered by some very effective shades that kept the room very dark. The male nurse politely asked me if I could explain a bit further how I met Mark and what we were doing for him.
As I finished my story for the male nurse, I was interrupted by a voice from the one bedroom at the end of the hall in the apartment. She said, “Harry, can you help me?” The male nurse proceeded down the hall and emerged pushing a middle-aged woman in a wheelchair. She had no legs.
She greeted me with tears and a visibly trembling outstretched hand. She shared how grateful she was that her prayers had finally been answered. She had been praying relentlessly for about ten years that her son would find some people who could help him straighten out his life. She went on to detail her life with Mark. His drug addiction had led him to steal everything his mom had ever owned, other than her bed, her wheelchair, and some toiletries. The chair and the television on the stand in the living room were recent purchases, she said.
About five years later, my wife and I received a call from Mark’s mom. Mark had moved to Texas, was married and about to celebrate the birth of his new son. Mark’s mom was calling from her cell phone. She was in a car on her way to the airport to fly to Texas to be there when the baby was born.
No matter what your head might suggest that separates you from God, contemplate the reality of this story about Mark and his mom. The waves crashing between me and the Porpoise remind me that He created it all, He is here, He cares, we matter, and He will do anything in His power to bridge any distance whatsoever that may appear to exist between us and Him. It’s the lives of Mark and his mom that confirm the present day reality for us that “He is not silent. That is the reason we know. It is because He has spoken.” [ii] The rest is just between your ears.
NOTES
[i] Kushner, Harold. When All You’ve Ever Wanted Isn’t Enough New York, New York: Summit Books, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc., 1986, p.107
[ii] Schaeffer, Francis He Is There and He Is Not Silent, Tyndale House Publishing Wheaton, Il 1972. Copyright (c) 1972 by Francis A. Schaeffer p. 17
