Click. Silence.

When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then Thou knewest my path. Psalm 142:3

I feel like such a wuss.  So many things break my heart left and right that yes, my spirit is overwhelmed within me.  So I am considering, is this tender heart–mostly pulverized from the nonstop onslaught of electronic information that pummels me from the early morning click of NPR to the wry pop, pop, pause, punchline of Jay Leno’s good night monologue–like Jesus as His heart swept over the clutter of Jerusalem and longed to gather them up under His wing or a mere distraction from the real conversation of life?  

Would an electronic fast allow me to focus on the immediate–the person right in front of me in person and not by keyboard? Would I become a more present–a Jesus-bearer unplugged? Someone who glanced up in trees or saw the man laying dejected by the side of the pool?

And would I just be a heck of a lot more peaceful. 

Or is the Jesus-bearer the one who is aware of it all–each sparrow from the beginning of time–and yet can rest wholeheartedly in the confidence that He knowest my path. 

We were talking last night as we worked our way through Frank Laubach: During the day, in the chinks of time between the things we find ourselves obliged to do, there are the moments when our minds ask: ‘What next?’ In these chinks of time, ask Him: ‘Lord, think Thy thoughts in my mind. What is on Thy mind for me to do now?’ When we ask Christ, ‘What next?’ we tune in and give Him a chance to pour His ideas through our enkindled imagination. If we persist, it becomes a habit.

The trouble with nearly everybody who prays is that he says, “Amen” and runs away before God has a chance to reply. Listening to God is far more important than giving Him your ideas.

I gotta say that the quiet is a huge part of it. For me that is.  I stepped outside into the orange pink billowiness of this morning and my soul leapt into song,

Bless the Lord, O my soul

O my soul

Worship His holy name

Sing like never before

O my soul

I'll worship Your holy name

The sun comes up, it's a new day dawning

It's time to sing Your song again

Whatever may pass, and whatever lies before me

Let me be singing when the evening comes

And, once again, for me, driving up and down Speedway without the radio is an act of kneeling down worship.  A now habit of asking, “What next?”  Wandering around Armory Park with Evie Tess tucked up around my arm before the city bustle begins.  Sitting with my poppa snoozing on the couch wth Sam the Dog tucked underfoot.  

I am pretty sure that chinks of time is a choice. And.  Not even the tiniest hint of overwhelmed.

Click.