The Awful Silence

Readings: Amos 8:11-12; 2Corinthians 11:19-12:9;

 Luke 8:4-15

I find myself in a quandary. Yesterday I listened to the peaceful words of a Buddhist monk and this morning I write of dire warnings. The last thing I want to do is drive away those looking to or seeking God's words of wisdom. But, from time to time, Christianity becomes the heavy in the good parent/bad parent scheme of things. But the beauty in all of this is that when the loving parent has to take on the role of the one to get us back into line, it is done with a great deal of unconditional love. Unconditional. 

In Amos, the words speak of Israel facing a famine of the worst kind--a famine of hearing the words of God. Not a famine of food or drink as we usually presume constitutes a famine, but a famine where there is no connection with God...at all.

Think about it.

And why this famine? Because at this point in history, the Israeli people were militarily strong, and were quite comfortable having enjoyed prosperity for a period of time in all facets of economics, pleasure, and luxuries. In all this, God was less and less the focus; corruption, immorality, and pursuits of the secular world's yardsticks of success were the daily focal point. And, with all this, God said, "Enough."

...the awful silence of praying to God and feeling or hearing nothing. Of meditating and speaking to God only to be met with nothing.

The awful silence. The loving parent bringing His children back to center. Those of us raised by parents whom we honor can only imagine the horrible feeling of silence and separation. Worse than hunger or thirst, the separation of one on whom we depend upon daily--there, but not responding.

In Luke, Christ relates the parable of the sower. Tossing out those seeds, some fall on the path, are trampled, and the birds flock in to devour them. God's word is shared with us, but the daily "devil in the details" gains our attention, and the seeds of good words and deeds are lost. Others seeds tossed out among the rocks where they wither and die from lack of moisture; we hear, but at the first inclination to pay heed to a bad habit, we give in and the good words and good deeds "dry up". Yet more seeds fall among the thorns. They're able to grow a bit, but once they start to really grow, the thorny issues of worries and pressures of being accepted by our friends, neighbors, and strangers by appearing successful start choking out any sprouts of good works and good deeds. 

The result? The awful silence continues in the lives of many who never get the chance to know they are loved unconditionally.

The good news in all this trampling, withering, and choking? Some make it. The seeds are planted, they survive all the obstacles, and the good works and deeds thrive. With these, the awful silence can be avoided, and the love of God is recognized.

In Luke 8:4-15, Paul reminds us of the sacred words said by Christ during the Last Supper. This most sacred meal in meditation with Christ allows us to immerse ourselves in the unspeakable beauty of unconditional love. When we come to the table, we are given the undeniable right to leave behind all the worry, the competition, the pressure, and the thoughts of the ridiculous rules of mere mortals. As we leave the table, we are asked to not pick them back up... 

We humans have the gift or, perhaps, the burden of free choice. In this country we have, for over a century, been given luxuries, economic power, military strength--all the worldly pleasures. Yet, have we been trampling those seeds of God's word along the way, allowing them to fall among the thorns to be choked out, or among the rocks only to wither?

Are we on the pathway to the awful silence?

We don't have to be--our loving God awaits; the ultimate patient parent. But we need to act as well. More than a moment of the awful silence would be too much.

Peace be with you.