For a preacher, the inability to locate words over a prolonged period of time is equivalent to a pulled hamstring for athletes. Without warning the silence comes. Where your soul once spoke from is now vacant. There is nothing left to do but wait for a return visit from the spirit that lends inspiration, curiosity, and the courage to open your mouth and say something true even if it has been said before. Over the last two years, this blog became a place for me to test my voice without the anxiety induced by watching, in real time, how people respond to it. Blogging is supposed to be a conversation with the reader but it is rare for our readers to use the comment feature below. This doesn't bother me. In fact, I like it this way. I don't journal enough. Journaling is a burdensome thing, like going to bed early, that people desperately want to do, incessantly talk about eventually doing, but rarely do. However, as I read through the archives of this blog today, it was evident that the blog neatly captures the most complete witness of my life over the last two years. This realization makes the last month of silence from me even stranger. After doing this for two years, I would suppose the words would come easier.
To be fair to myself, I should admit that I saw this season of relative quiet coming. God is seasoning me, and us, for something new. No, not a new job or church, but a (re)new(ed) and reformed sense of focus within the community God put us. My voice, it appears, has been resting.
The coming months will be a time of rapid change as some old things we've been doing for awhile are laid to rest and some new people and opportunities are introduced. The change will invoke fear. I know this because the possibility of change already scared me silent. But do not fear. God did not call us to comfort but rather to delight. And delight is known through surprise. And I cannot speak for you, but I'd rather be delighted than comfortable. Even if it means I must wait.