“He’s so full of the Holy Spirit, he won’t drink a cup of coffee unless God tells him to.”
Years ago, that’s what someone told me about a Christian leader he was all fired-up about.
Wow! I wish God spoke with me that way. Then I could be sure I understood His will for my life. No worries. No mistakes. 100% sure of God’s best for my life. That’s what God wants.
Really?
My friend and I were enjoying a weekend morning run along Moore Road in Suwanee, Georgia, when suddenly a black SUV with two occupants came screeching to a stop right near us.
Startled out of our conversation and running rhythm, we heard the woman behind the wheel screaming at the top of her lungs at a teenage boy,
“GET OUT OF MY CAR! GET OUT OF MY #$!# CAR! GET OUT! GET OUT!”
The violence of her outburst shocked us both, and expecting blows to begin flying, we stopped, to intervene, if need be.
But a few screams later, the boy got out of the car, unharmed; the SUV roared away, and we, not knowing what to do, awkwardly resumed our run.
This not knowing what to do triggered a memory of something that happened when I was an 18-year-old freshman at Faith School of Theology, a pentecostal holiness Bible school in Charleston, Maine.
I unfolded the story to my running partner as we ran mile four…
In Ursula K. Le Guin’s excellent novel, A Wizard of Earthsea, I read this exchange:
“When will my apprenticeship begin, Sir?”
“It has begun,” said Ogion.
There was silence, as if Ged was keeping back something he had to say. Then he said it: “But I haven’t learned anything yet!”
“Because you haven’t found out what I am teaching,” replied the mage.
The dialogue ends with Ogion warning young Ged, “To hear, one must be silent.”
I don’t know about you, but I’m sure my least developed intellectual and spiritual skill is the ability to be silent.
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