Listening is how, not what

Do you ever get that unutterable sense of "knowing" in your belly? The one that convinces you of a thing, even if everyone says your wrong.

I think of it like intuition--resting under layer after layer after layer of consciousness. It sits quiet at the bottom of a dark ocean; cushioned by miles of undisturbed waters. When you're not listening, it still speaks, it's just you can't hear it. But it never shouts. It waits to be heard.

I'm usually struck dumb thinking, what's it saying? How should I respond?, I'm always reading hieroglyphics, always after long sprints, never reaching a finish line, and always barely finding what I'm looking for.

There's a good chance I'm sprinting in the opposite direction. Or in circles. Or the destination is right under my feet but my expectations don't recognize it.

And the funny thing is, I could beat myself into the ground running, but the little voice at the bottom of the ocean would never care. It goes on with or without me and all my attempts to dissect it's meaning. Down there, it's a different world entirely. I'm starting to think the message itself is less concerned with hearing and more with my way of hearing.

CS Lewis says you can never have something you want too desperately, because you aren't able to possess it. Is our desire to hear from God like that sometimes? What if we chase answers, because, in our hearts, efficiency sits like a fat king on his throne while the good prince wanders aimless in rags. We are prometheus stealing fire from Zeus--except Yahweh.

Maybe it is when we stop wanting God's advice so badly, and begin to want His presence more, that we hear his voice more clearly. It's like when you're in a relationship and then suddenly everyone wants you, or how everyone compliments your hair the day you don't style it, or when you searching for something you lost, and you don't find it until minutes after you've thrown your hands up in the air in desperation.

There are two ways to listen. One person listens, but you can see it in their eyes they are trying to use your words to form their next thoughts. Another person listens and comes inside your words. They move with the rhythm of what you're saying. They have a posture of listening. They delight in you.

Maybe, (just maybe), the last thing God wants to do is give us advice when we're so bent on stealing it for our own good. Maybe he wishes we would just sit and listen for listening's sake--the way we would listen to a friend or a lover. Because we delight in Him.