Skip to main content

Finding My Voice & Listening to God's

"Listen to my voice in the morning, LORD. Each morning I bring my requests to you and wait expectantly." 
Psalm 5:3

After a tough day of jogging on Friday, I was little hesitant to get up and go this morning. Add the ache in my head to the fear in my heart and it was really only by the nudging of the Lord that I got out of bed at 5:45 a.m. 

As I made my way down the street this morning, I decided to slow my pace down and really try to focus on what the Lord was saying to me, instead of focusing on surviving my run. I can't say it was easy, especially when my thoughts began to wander and my chest began to ache. 

Am I the only person who notices this habit? I feel the Lord convicting me about something I don't want to hear, change, or acknowledge, so I let my mind go elsewhere.

But, as the Lord usually does with His children, He kept bringing me back to what He wanted me to hear.

Do I really want to dive into everything the Lord had to say to me this morning? Not particularly. Sometimes our conversations with the Lord aren't meant to be shared. Especially when the Lord brings up those embarrassing character flaws you'd rather not admit having. 

But just last week, I was jogging and prayed Psalm 139:23, "Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts." God took that prayer and answered it, revealing anxious thoughts and areas of my heart that needed attention.

So today I feel like King David, realizing that the Lord listens to my voice each morning. Not only can I bring my requests to the Lord, but I can bring them expectantly. Although I may not hear his voice immediately, He will make Himself present at just the right moment. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Even When I Run Away ...

"The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:18 It's been over a year since I wrote in this blog. The past year has brought many life changes for our family. My husband returned from deployment and we packed up and moved across the country. I've had to adjust to a new home, a new school for my son, a new church, and new friends ... New everything. I haven't written in this particular blog because it's always been my place to share about my running journey and how my relationship with God has matured through that quiet time with Him. But over the last year or so, I haven't really been running.  And I've felt further from God than I've felt in a really long time.  At the beginning of 2017, I slowly began running again. A friend and I signed up for a half marathon and despite the sometimes awful weather here, I haven't missed a training run yet. I began to feel like I was fin...
12 comments
Read more

Letter from a Recovering Racist

It all started with books. As soon as I learned to read, my world began to change. When I was born, my world was small. I grew up in the Deep South. Fields for miles. Mosquitoes big enough to drain you dry. I lived in the middle of nowhere. Everyone around me looked just like me . Until I started kindergarten. As I grew older, I learned beside people who didn't look like me. But as time went on, the lines were drawn in the sand. We were "us" and they were "them." The lines were drawn with words, attitudes, and beliefs. Were there big explosions of speech and blatant actions? Yes. But most were whispers. It's easy to deny a whisper. A look. A thought. An idea. But many whispers together make a lot of noise. And the sound was deafening. The older I grew, the more books I read. Although I interacted daily with people not like me, I never listened to their voices. Not in person. But I read. I read and I read and I read. I read boo...
1 comment
Read more

New

I was 15 years old the first time he told me no one would ever love me. With those words, my life changed. I saw myself as unlovable. I was worthless. I was unwanted. I was broken. I was dirty. Before that day, I loved myself well and I felt like I loved others well. Not to "toot my own horn," but I just had a naturally generous spirit. That still lingers in my love language today. Giving is how I both show and feel love. But something shifted in that moment.  The word love became a weapon. It became a tool to manipulate.  And it broke my heart. Suddenly, I found myself trying to earn it. No one could ever love me just for being me. They could only love what I could give or do for them. This always played itself out in one of two ways: I'd either give and give and give until I had nothing left and I was left feeling unloved and worthless ... or I would refuse to give anything at all and I was still left feeling unloved and worthle...
Post a Comment
Read more