As a ministry developer, my vocabulary often centers around the words “call” and “discern” or variations on either term. I prod the people in the pews on Sundays and the people whom I counsel throughout the week to consider God’s call on them and their lives. I companion them, with pokes and prods, to discern what those calls might be. I suggest—with puzzled looks from my strongly extroverted companions—that they listen with full hearts and minds. Their quizzical expressions become even more so as I speak of the differences between listening and hearing, and as I speak of listening for the nonverbal clues to what is “really” being said.
Perhaps it is my “sensory” nature, but collecting information is a parallel activity to all that I do. Perhaps it also is natural that discernment is a constant activity for me as well. Recently, at least, it seems to be something that I am doing more proactively as well. Like the biblical prophets, I ask God repeatedly for “whats” and “hows” and sometimes even some “whys.” The “whys” particularly coming when I find God is stretching me or showing a sense of humor.
But in the current midst of the flurry of activity, I sense a strong need for some peace—a brief respite for me to collect my thoughts and to shield me from the distractions of service. In essence, I am seeking a respite to allow time for discernment.
Although not well timed—they never are I realize—I got such an opportunity over the weekend. A spiritual retreat of silence, spiritual direction and scripture for three hours in a neighboring state. Three hours that I desperately needed. Three hours that I could devote to listening and being silent so I might hear God’s voice and feel God’s touch on my heart and soul. It was during that brief retreat that I wrote the following haiku, which I share now as I realize it speaks to my own need for continued discernment.
And, yes, God, I am listening. I await your direction.
Beauty surrounds me
In the leaves and in the mountains
The wonderous colors.
But the real beauty
Is in the faces of friends
Their smiles, tears and eyes.
Eyes that twinkle bright
Aware of the love of God
In all that I see.
A hand that is held
An arm embracing another
Empathetic love.
Being a pastor
Allows beauty to enter the soul.
Oh what a blessing!
I am so thankful
God gifted me this present
Of serving others.
I in creation
All part of the Father’s world
Let me see the joy.
Immerse me, oh God
In the beauty of service
Planting grace and love.
Allow me to serve
How you so intend me to
And to hear your voice.
Do I hear clearly?
Do I discern your great call?
Or hear my own will?
Weed out distractions
So I might hear you clearly
And bravely obey.
Theresa
