Some years ago I thought I was listening to God when I decided to move halfway across the country to work for a different organization. Caught up in the delight of hearing God’s voice, I went overboard in my enthusiasm. I didn’t test out what I was hearing. I got it all wrong, and I was devastated. If that’s what hearing God lands me, I’m not going to speak to him, I thought, pain reverberating through my stomach.
But where else could I go? After months of feeling distant from God, I tiptoed my way back to him. Tentative. Heart worried and weary. Are you there, God?
Silence.
I was too afraid to hear that still, small voice. He was there, but I was fearful. And so I started off slowly and carefully. I began again to pray. I wasn’t looking for a direct line to God any more, but I didn’t want the feeling of distance to define my relationship with him.
Slowly, slowly, I started to trust again. I opened my eyes to other ways of God speaking to me – through his Spirit, through the beauty of creation, through the Bible.
And I realized that he had never been the distant one.
That had been me.
He was right there with me the whole time.
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