This Christian Life

Roots

There’s a small voice inside me that speaks. You know the old picture of an angel sitting on your shoulder whispering advice into your ear? That’s kind of what I’m describing, but not so blatant. Deep down, there is a very quiet voice that I listen to. It is the voice I trust more than most other voices. It’s something that I find myself longing to hear when I’m especially faced with a big decision.

But the “voice” isn’t always clear. Sometimes it’s hard to distinguish between it and all the other voices that bounce around inside. Sometimes, I find myself facing something big, and I realize my insides are all dried up. I realize I’ve gone too long without the refreshing rain of reflection, nurturing, and listening. It’s the rain from heaven I need.

There’s a song by Steve Camp that reminds me of this:

Oh Lord, take Your plow to my fallowed ground
Let Your blade dig down to the soil of my soul
For I’ve become dry and dusty, Lord I know there must be
Richer earth lying below.

For I’ve been living Laodicea
And the fire that once burned bright, I’ve let it grow dim
And the very Word I swore that I would die for all has been forgotten
As the world’s become my friend.

When I don’t feed my core, or pay attention to it, it grows weary and thin. Then, when hard times hit, I have nothing to draw from.

The voice is strongest when I pray. Not just quick prayers, but get-down-on-my-knees prayers where I can really let my mind and spirit settle down. And when I pray several days in a row, the voice is easier to find—more quickly obvious. It’s so powerful and light-giving. I’ve experienced it.

But I don’t always pray. In fact, I rarely pray like this. I fear I’ve let the world’s voices become my friend and they have clouded out the still, small voice I need. I fear I’ve lost the ability to listen to this voice.

Let your roots grow down into Christ and draw nourishment from him. See that you go on growing in the Lord, and become strong and vigorous in the truth.

Colossians 2:7