Whispers

Alain, one of our economics teachers, wears joy. His face glows with it and his eyes glint with a smile. Even in the rush of the day’s tasks, Alain projects calm and confidence—not that self-cultivated confidence—but that deep, abiding assurance that “all will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well.” It is a joy rooted in a faith forged out of trials and deliverance, hardships and grace. But on Thursday something like worry or sadness lined Alain’s face. We chatted briefly and he admitted to some concerns troubling him and his family. Our conversation sat heavy in my pocket.

Then a disappointing email greeted me when I logged on at school. A grant application to strengthen our library and provide training for UCBC faculty and staff was denied. It was the second time we’ve submitted to this particular grantor, and the second time we’ve been denied. Training needs and services to develop our library loom beyond our capacity and our resources. The news more than disappointed me. It slashed my spirit then sat on my shoulders like a gargoyle the rest of the day.

A phone conversation later that evening unlocked a trunk full of personal worries and concerns for loved ones who have their individual needs, concerns, and challenges.

I went to bed Thursday night pleading with God for provision, for deliverance, for healing, for miracles.

Friday morning began in the early morning quiet with whispers of truth and encouragement.

First I heard my dad’s voice, “There is something better. There is a reason. God has something better in store.” I believe that. It’s what I’ve experienced. I’ve also experienced dark times when all doors slammed shut and times of grace, when light seeped through the cracks and miracles sprouted.

Then two Old Testament passages came to mind. The first was Psalm 121, “I lift my eyes to the hills—from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth….” When I’m feeling defeated I look down in appearance and my eyes look to the ground where I see a road strewn with trash, streams clogged with litter, and my own two feet plodding along. But when I look up in the daytime, I see the magnificence of the Rwenzwori Mountains. When I raise my gaze at night, the sky speaks in stars. My riding instructor once told me to look where I want to go, not at my hands holding the reigns, or at the ground. If I look low, the horse is likely to stumble and I’m more likely to fall.

The other passage was Proverbs 3:5-6 (the last verse my dad quoted to me before I said my good-bye to him in 2010). “Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Lean not to your own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct your path.”  Yes, trust with all my heart, not just part of it, if that’s even possible. I cannot know full confidence in God if I do not trust fully. If I trust part-way, then my confidence will be partial. Will it even be confidence?

When I opened to the day’s reading in Forward Day by Day, the whispers continued. Simon of Cyrene was forced to carry the cross for “some poor man about to be executed.” The reflection suggested that the situation, ugly and distasteful as it was, opened the door for Simon of Cyrene to participate in one of Christianity’s major dramas. And while the early days of persecution of the new church drove the new believers out of Jerusalem, it also spread the Way.

None of us—Alain and his family, my friends and loved ones, even me—are not where we are by accident. We are, each of us, where we are to be at this moment, facing what we are facing for a reason and a purpose, and for a season. In those difficult seasons sometimes all we can do is look back to times of deliverance and blessing and provision and miracles and listen for whispers of encouragement.