When God speaks, it silences you. His voice still silences the storm. It sounds overly-spiritual to some, too light-weight for others, and too coincidental to most. And though you can hear the mockers in your head, the message is so deeply personal that you close your hand around it, unwilling to let others take it from you. It is an unexplained stillness, a sharp moment of clarity, and a private prayer spoken over you from God.
As I contemplate sharing what it is that God has done this week, I know that right now there are people whose memories are resurrecting Bible verses in anticipation of what I am going to say and perhaps have already drawn their double-edged sword of judgement. Right now there are some leaning in who are hoping to hear God's voice in the words He spoke to me. Right now there are doubters who have already calculated my experience and found it wanting. Now I understand why Mary treasured things in her heart. It was safe there.
As I try to craft the story of my week, I cannot. God does speak to His prophets for the masses to hear. God does speak messages to those He knows will carry it. But this week He spoke to me. Despite the laughable coincidence, I cannot deny that He spoke to me. And its message is still so raw and my faith is still so small that I am choosing to treasure it up.
He gave me no answers except for the one I needed most. He loves me.