Listening to a Whisper
I do not know why it is always at times of trial that I am brought back to you my journal. You’ve been sitting on my shelf for over a year now. As always, the case, I am my own worst enemy. I get myself into situations of stress becoming lost in a multitude of possibilities and choices. The drive to keep moving, thinking, and avoiding has a noise all its own that is deafening. All of it just distractions impeding on the need to listen to a whispering desire, that rests within me. That noise is calling me away, but away from whom? Myself. Why? So, as not to hear Him. For it is in me that He has decided to rest His head. He, that whispering presence within my heart, which is his place of rest, is calling me from myself.
I yearn to listen to Him again, but my senses have grown tired. Now, here you rest again upon my lap, taken from your place of slumber. Are you going to be my path to Him? A means yet again to listen to his gentle voice. Your path entices me, but there is a fear I have within my mind. A fear for what waits along the sides of your path for me. I see in the distance along your path many thorns, pains in need of reconciling. Oh, how that word makes me chuckle at times. Why? Because reconciling is a word that always seems good when applied to others, but for myself, my mind is not yet sure about it.
As I try to listen to His voice in my heart, your blank pages, a barren field, rests open before my eyes ready to receive my words as a seed. Seeds that I must drop upon you myself. Seeds that come out from a place in me I know not where. The hope for fruit ever nudging me along. Yet, that noise of dullness, feeding my desire not to feel, is present, and is ever shouting within me. Its balmy temptation is always for me to turn away from you. Still, He is whispering to me. It that whisper, my head turns to my heart and I feel that He is looking upon me, inviting me into a gaze. A gaze that can only be seen through your blank pages. I sense, His gaze is not a summons, which is cold and demanding, but an invitation that remains. An invitation that is offered freely if I just choose to travel through the your pages.
Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. ~ Isaiah 55:1