Leading and Listening
“The Lord your God who goes before you will himself fight for you, just as he did for you in Egypt before your eyes” (Deuteronomy 1:30).
There is a time for leading—following Me. And there is a time for listening, trusting my voice in you and waiting on it.
Know that I speak.
Lead by listening, not on your own. Then leading comes from the true place I call you to—the foundation that you can never doubt, the rock that never wavers, sure footing where you can always stand.
I ask you to go ahead, sometimes into new places, but they are places where I have been. And I show you the way to go there. You never head out—leading the way, on your own.
I am your guide, your beacon, your map, your voice.
I am the one who goes ahead and marks the trail. Sit and listen first, so you can recognize my voice when you head out into new territory, the two of us, together.
Do you hear Me? Do you recognize Me? Do you know the feel of my arm around you, my whisper of hope and love?
I am your strength. Nothing else.
I am the one who loves you and sends you out, with my voice in you.
There is no place I won’t speak.
|| More Resources For You ||
I found myself instantly pulled in as I read Hannah Miller King’s article, “The Longest Table in the World.” I can certainly understand the tension she describes between nostalgia and hurts from the past—and the underlying hunger for somewhere to belong and be nourished with love. Here’s a quote of hers that’s staying with me today: “In Celtic spirituality, there’s an ancient recognition of ‘thin places,’ where the veil between heaven and earth is especially translucent. Thin places are believed to create a particularly hospitable environment for sensing God’s presence. The Lord’s Table is such a place. We find it in grand sanctuaries with stained glass windows and in borrowed school cafeterias where new congregations gather. We find it in beautiful mountain towns and in war-torn countries; in national cathedrals and in illegal underground churches. In every place that God’s people gather to commune with him, heaven touches earth, and we experience, in part, the fellowship that characterizes our forever home.” Amen.
“A mother curls up in the children’s reading nook with her two small kids, the three of them sinking into bean bags, her loving voice reading Guess How Much I Love You. A father hands his son his favorite book from middle school, beaming. And even when the shop is empty, the afternoon sunlight falls just so on the yellow and gray checkered floor, and the books are there, just there, just waiting. I suddenly remember that I, too, know how to pay attention. How to walk along the shelves of books and let my fingers drift over the spines. How to look people in the eye and ask them how they’re doing, ask them what their favorite book is. How to pause on my way out of the parking garage and look down at our little bookshop, this gift, this miracle.” → Shawn Smucker has a special talent for taking us out of the frantic rush of our tech-focused culture and pulling us into something more intimate, quiet, human. Read the rest of his essay here.
You’ve probably heard that slowing down and resting can actually make you more productive. And, of course, it makes sense why people say this, doesn’t it? Our culture is so focused on creating more and achieving more that some of us feel we need permission to slow down. Do we feel better about rest knowing that it will eventually make us more productive? Maybe so. But as Timothy Willard says in this moving essay, “Like anything atomic, dilly-dallying is cumulative. Daily blossom-berries, upwinds, and hovering rainbows don’t help you get something done. It gets done inside of you.”
* Not signed up for Loop?
Get it today—it comes three times a week, free.
