Tuning Out, Tuning In
August 27, 2006
Seven years ago, a guy named Mike moved into my office. At the time, I was only a casual Christian. Mike was saved, and frankly he was a little scary. He talked about prayer and the Holy Spirit. He actually knew and quoted Scripture. He had a strange and disturbing peace about him. I didn’t like him very much.
In my new position, I was spending a lot of time working at my desk with my headphones on. After about a month, Mike told me that I was filling up my head with too much noise.
“You aren’t giving God a chance to talk to you,” Mike said. “You listen to your car radio all the time too, don’t you?” Man, was I mad. “No, not all the time,” I said. But I did. Still, I didn’t see his point. If God had something to say, He could surely speak louder than my car speakers. Mike challenged me to go a week with the music off. “Fine,” I said. “No big deal. I’ll humor you.”
The next day, I was amazed to see how frequently and habitually I reached for that knob. But as the week progressed, I stopped reaching. I began to enjoy the absence of that “noise”. One week turned into two. Then three. And four.
Then one day, as I drove to work in relative silence, I sensed a presence in the car with me. An eerie presence, an intense presence, an undeniable presence. I started to feel uncomfortable. With every passing mile, it became more intimidating. Slowly, then suddenly, the urge to flee overcame me. In a panic, I reached down for the radio and pushed the button.
Nothing happened. I pushed again. And again. And again.
Nothing.
Now, I was scared.
I pulled to the side of the road and sat in silence for a few seconds. Then, after a deep breath, I prayed aloud for the first time in many, many years. “God, I’m here.” I said. “Is there something you wanted to say to me?” I can’t explain all that was said in the next several minutes. But it started very clearly and distinctly with this: “Hi, Mike. Glad you asked.”
When the conversation was finished, I cried and cried. I pulled myself together and I started off towards work. Then, without fanfare, the radio came on. I think God was saying to me, “OK, Mike. Now you understand the radio. Let’s start working on the important stuff.”
My relationship with God started that day. It has grown steadily since then. In times when He seems far away, I always find that my distractions have kept Him away. He’s there. He’s always there. I am the absent party. But when I clear away the noise, when I set aside time for Him, when I open the door, He’s there. Immediately, He’s right there.
Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me. Rev 3:20
Comments
Unfortunately, it is easy to be distracted and hard to be focused. As Ken Boa is fond of saying, the world defines us by default, while the Word defines us only through discipline.
Posted by: zwilson | August 28, 2006 10:17 AM