There is a noise: a sound so faint that it can only be heard in the quietest of rooms. And few ever allow themselves the time to hear it. We move on too quickly. We busy our minds with constant motion. We get caught up in the bright colors and loud noises and high emotions, and we’re all addicts; and we’re all afraid of what might happen if it gets too quiet. We just might realize that what we’re consuming isn’t satisfying us, only pacifying us, only gratifying the outer layers of a deeper desire – a desire we might not have the answer for.

But there’s something that lies on the other side of our restlessness. An invitation exists in the void.   

That’s where my story began. That’s where my life was formed. It was the hollow days, wasn’t it? It was those honest prayers: “I’m afraid.” It was that empty space where I found myself and was struck by my insufficiency. I was left alone with my thoughts and stood there: face to face with my fears and no defenses, and I knew that I needed real answers and authentic experiences, and the mere entertainment that I saw sedating the lives of those around me wasn’t enough. It was that desperation that made me search, frantically search, blindly grasp for something solid. And it was in that darkness that I learned to see clearly. It was in the bitterness of loneliness that I learned the sweetness of company. It was in the cold that I felt that subtle breeze, slightly warmer than the surrounding air, and I followed it. And I kept going. And I learned the truth from the lies. And I learned the real from the fake. And I found what I wouldn’t have known to ask for. The time was necessary. The struggle was imperative. True healing began in my honesty. 

The Spirit of God isn’t afraid to take His time on you. He’s not afraid of years or decades. But you’re afraid, maybe, to waste your time on Him, when there’s so much else you could be doing or consuming or hoping that maybe the next one or the next one or the next one will do it for you. And maybe it will, for a time, for a moment, but it doesn’t deal with the brokenness. It never did. It just gave you a way around, but it’s still there and you know it. You’re hoping it won’t come up again, but you’re afraid because you’re hiding. There are still corners of your mind that you won’t get close to, because, maybe, you’re scared your solution won’t work as well as you’ve told yourself.

Get alone – in the Void. 

Feel the nothing. Feel the longing until you know exactly what it is you long for, and you know that what you need isn’t what they offered and it isn’t in what you already have. And then, from the deepest places comes that cry, that honest prayer: “I’m afraid.” And that’s the kind that gets answered. 

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst.