I always find it interesting when God begins to speak truth to my heart--interesting and sometimes annoying.
Usually it strikes at the most inopportune times. You know, like when you're about to unload a massive amount of wisdom unto a poor unsuspecting and uncaring soul. Right there. Right as the words are being formed on your tongue...You've already thought them. You believe them in your heart and mind. And you
know that if you could just be
heard by this person their life would be better.
You just know it.
And then the Holy Spirit compels you to stop.
You weren't going to say anything bad. Actually, it was probably quite good. And in your heart you would never want to hurt anybody's feelings, but sometimes (and this is extremely difficult for me to admit) it's better to not say anything than to say everything you know.
So, with the words on your tongue, hand in the air, you (or I) find yourself frozen in time left with a choice as the words of 1 Corinthians 13, the love chapter, come scrolling through your mind.
"Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others more than for self.
Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.
Love doesn't strut,
Doesn't have a swelled head,
Doesn't force itself on others,
Isn't always "me first,"
Doesn't fly off the handle,
Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trust God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back.
Love keeps going to the end."
Love never dies...
When we were children we used to think like children, talk like children, act like children, but now we are adults and we must put our childish thinking, talking, acting aside."
And then that's when you realize. The more perfect form of love doesn't have to say anything or be right or even be heard. The most perfect form of love just needs to be there and observe...be quiet and pray.
That's one of the most difficult tasks God has ever asked me to do--to be quiet. I finally found a voice and now He wants me to be quiet. But more and more that's exactly what He's asking me to do. It's humbling to admit that sometimes the greatest demonstration of love is just growing up and shutting up. It's realizing that you might be right, but that's not going to change the situation. Words mean nothing unless they are backed by action.
I'm so not
there, but I'm learning to be. I'm learning that there is a powerful elegance found in quietness. And that quietness is a part of growing old. And that sometime quietness is heard more clearly than the loudest voice.
I desperately desire that powerful elegance to increase the effectiveness of my testimony because in truth, my testimony (my life, my actions, my example) fall short of it's capabilities. I'm capable of more, but only when Christ's love in me has the ability to shine through me. And usually that's through a quiet, consistent love.
An adult kind of love.
When I was a child, I spake as a child. But now that I'm a woman, and I'm learning to be quiet.
