Have you ever known you had to talk to God about a heartache, but if you were honest, it wasn’t really the talking you were worried about...it was the listening? Maybe you didn’t know if you wanted to hear what He would say.
I was working through a particular worry, and I found myself sitting just inside God’s front door of His Throne Room. I had tied up the “elephant”—my worry—behind a beautiful tree where I thought He wouldn’t be noticed. I waited for the difficult conversation to begin.
At first He and I talked about other things...lots of other things. To begin with, I sang some songs of praise to Him. It’s only here I do this really loudly as He didn’t give me a wonderful voice like He gave others. In fact, if I’m not careful, I can even find myself listening and enjoying the sound of my own voice instead of listening to Him and enjoying the sound of His—which is really silly and does no good at all!
We talked about Tajikistan. It wasn’t that I was really interested in Tajikistan at that moment, but there were lots of things wrong in Tajikistan and that meant using up a lot of the time I had allotted for my devotions. I got out the mission letter about it and put it on the top of my Bible, so I could cover everything. Things were going along really nicely and there was still a long list of prayer requests when He took the letter off my lap and smiled at me.
“Let’s talk,” He said.
“We are,” I said hesitantly.
“Not really,” He replied. “Let’s talk about what’s wrong and what you are worried about. After that, you will find you can really pray about Tajikistan and do some good.”
My heart began to beat hard. “I can’t—I can’t go there, Lord.”
“That’s because you usually go there on your own,” He said. “Just you and the elephant. Come with me.”
Before I knew it, He was walking me toward the big beast hidden behind the evergreen tree with the lovely fruit. “Remember, Jill,” He said ever so gently, “Remember what you’ve been trying to forget.” I’d spent so much time with the elephant that never forgets that, when I was this close to Him, I found it was easy for me to remember, too.
Suddenly we were surrounded by the mess and the hurt and the impossible things that needed to be faced and dealt with. I wanted to run or distract myself by singing more songs or finishing my prayers for Tajikistan, but He held on to me very gently and firmly and just kept looking at me.
He kept me there as the pain of the hard situation came closer and closer to the surface and began to take over. I cried. He tightened His grip. The pain receded a bit. I found myself in such emotional turmoil; I could hardly breathe, much less talk about it. He read my pain and heard my soul weeping.
“Listen to me, Jill.” Then He spoke, and I realized why I hadn’t listened to Him for a while. It was because I hadn’t wanted to hear what He had to say about the worry, in case it was a hard thing to bear. If I stopped talking and began to listen, He might sneak it in there. I had been keeping my listening distance, if you know what I mean. I had just kept singing songs to Him; talking about Tajikistan; and memorizing promises (about the weather, harvest time, taxes, the Babylonians, and things that had nothing to do with anything—though I got them all from the Bible, of course)—all to avoid the elephant in the room.
Here I was, at last, daring to stand with Him and let the dark shadows of my memories engulf me. As long as He was holding onto me, I could stand my ground even though the shadows darkened. Then I saw the light. It was coming from Him who is the Light of the World.
“Though you walk through the shadow of death,” He said, “I am with you. My rod and my staff will comfort you” (Ps. 23:3). I remembered that where there’s a shadow, there’s always light for the believer. No valley on earth is ever totally dark for the one who loves Jesus.
He talked then about the worry I had tried to pretend wasn’t there or the worry that was making me ill. He gave me a perspective I’d never had before, as I dared to listen with all of my worried heart. I said I was sorry. I had been afraid to be still and let Him near my pain. He smiled and forgave me. Right there! Right then!
A lot of His words sounded very familiar, and I remembered they came from His Book. But when He said them to me in the presence of the dark reality of my situation, I found myself seeing everything in a new light. I can’t really describe it to you, but suddenly, I didn’t want Him to stop talking, and I didn’t want to stop listening. It had been a long time. Too long.
We talked then of how I could begin to live well with the consequences of the situation that had arisen until, or if ever, He changed them. Today suddenly looked doable. We stood in the shadows of my sorrows, and I watched the Light of Life chasing those dark things back where they belonged. Later, as I walked out of the Throne Room into my day and its challenges, I found myself thinking about my breakfast. How long was it since I’d felt like breakfast? As I made myself a nourishing meal and bowed my head to give thanks, I suddenly couldn’t speak. I didn’t have to. “I hear you, Jill,” He said deep down in my life.
As I readied for the day’s work, checked that the doors were locked and all was safely in place, I realized something was missing. My elephant! Where was he? For a moment I considered taking time to find him. I felt sort of lonely without that immense hulk dominating the landscape of my life. Then I laughed. At “this” moment in “this” day, I was free. Why on earth would I look for the elephant? He would be back no doubt, or one of his kind, so I determined to enjoy my freedom while it lasted. Tomorrow was another day.
Why don’t you take time to climb inside my prayer? Take the elephant with you. Don’t keep your listening distance.
Right here, right now,
As before your throne I bow,
Turn my darkness into day
May I trust you, come what may,
Right here, right now.
Right here, right now,
As before your throne I bow,
Hear my heart in speechless prayer,
Ask for faith to replace care
Right here, right now.
Right here, right now,
Worried, weary, here I bow.
Deep inside my life hold sway,
Hear me Jesus; have your way,
Right here, right now,
Right here, right now!
Amen.
