Hearing God.

Why can't I hear God when I talk to him?

Swee'Pea asked me this question as we were driving home tonight from a long day in Los Angeles.  We had been sitting quietly as we weaved through traffic and listened to the ball game on the radio and his question caught me off guard.  I turned down the radio and asked him to repeat what he had asked.

Why can't I hear God when I talk to him?

I stuttered as I began to answer.  Wondering if I was saying the right words.  Wondering if I would permanently damage his faith or future salvation if I didn't give him the right answers.

Oh, his voice isn't always audible like mine or daddy's is... I replied.  But you can hear him if you really listen.  You can hear him in your heart.  You can hear him when you read his words.  You can hear him through other people who love you and take care of you.  When you pray, God will answer.  Sometimes we just don't understand right away or know that he is trying to speak to us.  We just really have to listen.

I hoped my answer was deep enough to impact him, but simple enough for him to understand.  He was quiet awhile before he painfully replied:

But I pray and pray and he never answers me.  Why won't he talk to me?

His answer broke my heart.  How often had I had the same thought?  That God was withholding his voice from me.  Refusing to answer me when I cried out in pain or desperation?

Sometimes it is just a feeling you have... in your heart.  When you are lonely or scared or confused or in pain... you pray.  And God calms your heart.  You feel his protection on you.  You feel his love wrapping you up in a warm hug.

He was quick to respond this time.

Like when I'm in bed at night, and all the lights are off, and I'm scared.  I pray to God to keep me safe and he helps me to not be frightened.  And when I'm hurt I pray and he makes me feel better.  Is that God talking to me?

I reassured him that it was.  That it was God letting him know that he was loved and protected.  That God was keeping him safe and calming his heart.  He sat silently for awhile before bombarding me with question after question that left me feeling vulnerable and inadequate and completely helpless as a mother.

Why do people die?
What happens when you die?
Does it hurt?
Does everyone go to heaven?
Why is Papa sick?
Will Jesus heal him?
Why are their kids that don't have mommies and daddies?
Why do babies die?
Why did Jesus take away your babies in your tummy?

He asked one after another, hardly skipping a beat as I tried to answer as best I could.  I tried to speak to him frankly but compassionately.  Not wanting to scare him but at the same time not wanting to withhold the truth.  And while I spoke I felt so much self doubt and sadness creep over me.  Did I believe the answers I was giving him?  Hadn't I asked the same questions of God, some of them more times than I can count?  Hadn't I laid in bed and cried and beat my fists into the pillow and demanded that God answer me... give me a solid good reason why there was pain and suffering not just in my own life, but in the lives of my family and families around the world?  Hadn't I gone down this road in my own salvation journey, my own battle with my faith, my own path to better understanding the truth of the gospel?  I wanted Swee'Pea to know the truth.  But how often had I questioned the truth myself?

The truth of the matter is that I love Jesus and his gospel message.  I am confident that Christ loves me and saved me from sin and from myself.  I know without a doubt that the pain and disappointment I have experienced in life has nothing to do with his love for me.  Long ago, before I was even a thought in my mother's mind, Christ demonstrated his passionate love for me.  He chose to forgive me for the sins he knew I would someday commit.  He chose to be led like a lamb to slaughter.  He chose to die in a most gruesome and tragic way.  He chose to bare the burden for mankind so that I would never have to bare the true weight of my ugly heart.  I was born a sinner.  I will die a sinner.  But God has saved me from those sins because I choose every day to give my life to him.  I don't deserve that love.  I don't understand that love.  But by his grace I have life, both here on earth and in heaven.

How do you explain to an almost 5-year-old about the journey that has taken you to the point you are at now in your faith?  That loving God is not simple.  That obeying God is never easy.  That you will continue to sin... choose to sin... even after Christ has saved you and even when you know the truth of his Gospel.  That you will never fully understand why he allows ugliness and sin in the world.  But at the same time, that you will never fully understand his beautiful grace and mercy in the world either.  How do you explain that the same pain that has brought you to your knees and caused you to shake your fist at God will also bring you closer to him than you could have ever imagined?  That the same pain that has torn you apart can at the same time knit you even closer to the one person who loves you more than his own life?  How do you explain that the pain and suffering you endure are not caused by Christ, but are allowed by Christ because he gave us free will and in that free will we continue to be a broken people?  A broken people with hearts that are prone to wander.  A broken people who could have been lost forever.  But, because of God's divine plan for mankind, we are a broken people who are so loved by our creator that in his goodness and mercy, he died on the cross to forgive our sins.  And, if we open our hearts to him, he will use our sin to break us, so that in that brokenness his beloved will be brought back to him.

These are not things I can explain to my little boy of four.  But these are things that I pray someday he will understand.  That loving Christ is a choice that is worth every single ounce of pain and wondering and suffering.  These are conversations and details that I will share with him another time.  On another day.  When he has lived long enough to experience true disappointment and pain.  When he is at a crossroads of truly understanding what it means to pick up your cross and carry it daily.  For now, I simply answered him with this:

I don't know why bad things happen.  But I know that God loves us so much!  So much that he died for us on the cross.  So much that he wants us to be with him in Heaven if only we will choose to love and honor and obey him.  But sometimes it is so very hard to do that.  Every day mommy makes mistakes and every day mommy has to ask for forgiveness.  And each day mommy prays for you, too!  When you are awake and when you are asleep she prays for you.  Prays that you will know God and love God.  Prays that your heart will long to follow him.  Prays that you will want to love Jesus and obey him even when it is hard or you are sad or angry or don't think life is fair.  Every day I pray that your life would be lived to serve God and God alone.

Quietly he digested this.  He asked a few more questions about heaven and what it would be like and who he would see there and what God would be wearing.  And I was honest in saying I wasn't sure, but I that I knew without a doubt it would be the most beautiful sight we would ever see.  He was quiet for awhile before speaking up once again.

Mommy?

Yes, baby boy.

I wish I was a puppy dog so I didn't have to sit in a car seat.

And just like that, our deep theological conversation was over and we were back to talks of pets and breakfast and soccer and school.

Dear Lord,

Thank you for my son.  Thank you for giving him a mind that yearns to learn more about you and about the world around him.  Give me the words to say to him.  Fill my answers with your love and mercy and truths.  Let your light shine from me as I love this little boy.  Guide me as I seek to parent him in a way that reflects your love.  Help me to know how to pray for him, how to speak to him, how to teach him.  Forgive me when I stumble and fall and sin and make mistakes in showing him your love.  Protect him and wrap him in your loving arms of grace and kindness.  Let  him know your presence in real and tangible ways.

Thank you, thank you for the privilege I have of being his mother.

Amen