On my last trip to Oklahoma, a friend of mine had given me some music CD’s she had put together. They were her favorites. To be honest, they got laid aside when I got home. I don’t know why. I just set them on the shelf and they got moved and removed. Removed from the shelf and removed from my mind. [Frankly, my mind is more easily dusted.]
I was readying for a trip to my brother’s house in Ohio. I like to fill the console of my car with my favorite music. While hunting them down, I ran across the misplaced CD’s and mixed them in with my choices. And I hit the road.
I’m one of Father’s little spiritual brats. I readily admit it. Not proud of it, but it is what it is. I also take very literally the word that says, “Come boldly before the throne of grace.” Boldly means “to speak your mind.” And, because I’ve never been one to be belligerent with others, I seize opportunities to be a brat before the Lord. I’m a tattler… and a whiner. Somehow alone time in the car liberates me to this sort of tomfoolery. I know that I am supposed to have a holy fear toward God, but in my intimate times of desperation, this concept escapes me.
Of late, I’ve been in sort of a “forced” solitude. Whether the season of my life, or God’s deliberate removal of those things that distract me, solitude has felt like a prison. I was sharing with God that I feel cut off; removed from the rest of the body of Christ. And God has also been disturbingly silent. It’s not been unusual for God to drop an occasional word down into my spirit. That seems to have stopped. I’ve had ears to hear, but He hasn’t seemed inclined to speak to me. Whether you term it a wilderness experience, or whether you think it is the reward of disobedience, it still bites. So, because I often think that I am powerful enough to force God to do my will [please note the wincing grin on my face], I turned off the radio in the car and demanded in my brattiest tone for God to speak to me. I told Him I just needed Him to “drop a word” into my spirit so that I know that He’s still speaking to me and that I can still hear Him. I told him that I wasn’t going to turn the radio back on until He did. [Which I’m sure made Him rush to the edge of heaven in a panic!] Sarcasm aside, I sat in silence for quite some time. Ten minutes feels like an eternity when you’re throwing a fit.
In the eternal quiet of my 10 minutes, I began singing. The tune was “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing”. I only knew a few of the words. But for some reason, the song felt significant, like my answer was in it somewhere. Almost as if God had waited for the strong wind, the earthquake, and the fire to be done [see 1 Kings 19), and the gentle blowing came through the song. I didn’t instantly recognize it. In fact, I got frustrated and gave up. I reached over and picked up one of the CD’s that my friend had given me. The speakers blared with the raspy voice of David Crowder calling for the crowd to sing a hymn with him. “Come Thou fount of every blessing; tune my heart to sing Thy praise…” The voice washed over me as if it were God Himself. And the gentle blowing of His Spirit whispered “this is your answer, child. Now just stop and know that I am enough.” I had to pull the car over for a few minutes. Gentle humbling forces compulsory reverence.
I sat in awe that God put into motion October 24th, 2008 sometime in 2007. That’s bizarre, isn’t it? Even more incredible is the fact that God loves me enough to move in and through my life that intimately. He even puts CD’s on hold for the moment they are most needed. He knew in advance that I would be right here, in this frustrating place, and He knew that I would be griping. If He purposes moments like this in my life… He purposes them in yours as well. His grace and mercy blows my mind.
So… why that particular song? Next blog…
