The silence of God, snow in April and Brennan Manning

When the silence of God ascends around me I too sit in silence. I awaken every morning in the quietness of my home. Sit in the living room and watch the sun rise.  See the clouds reflect the rays or the sky shimmer in its brightness.  I sit in the serenity, in stillness, listening to the silence of God.  When God is silent I have no words to write.  The writers pen goes dormant and I sit, quietly, listening, waiting, staring, in the silence of God’s words.  He is moving.

Today, I watched the tiny snowflakes fall silently outside the window.  I listened for God and still He was silent.  So, I sat some more.  I read His word and drank its like a cool glass of water on a hot summer day.  Refreshing but still the silence of God was present. 

I don’t mind when God is silent.  I know He is preparing to drop revelation into my life, He has something to teach me, a place to take me or a new bloom to burst forth….so I wait and I am content.  It does paralyze me in my thoughts and in my writing but as I wait, I sit in hopeful anticipation of the move of God.  I have learned to be content and as the snow fell today I didn’t not worry that this meant more silence to come, it simply adds to the picture of green buds peeking through the snow laden tree, awaiting spring, awaiting for the voice of God.

Brennan Manning arrived at his final resting place on April 12, 2013.   He is the author of The Ragamuffin Gospel, Abba’s Child, The Parable of Willie Juan and Ruthless Trust.  Have you read his works? 

“Suffering, failure, loneliness, sorrow, discouragement, and death will be a part of your journey, but the Kingdom of God will conquer all these horrors. No evil can resist grace forever.”

On Saturday I started reading Brennan Manning’s memoir, All is Grace.  Here is the heart of the book.

This book is by the one who thought he’d be farther along by now, but he’s not.  It is by the inmate who promised the parole board he’d be good, but he wasn’t.  It is by the dim-eyed who showed the path to others but kept losing his way.  It is by the wet-brained who believed if a little wine is good for the stomach, then a lot is great.  It is by the liar, tramp, and thief; otherwise known as the priest, speaker , and author.  It is by the disciple whose cheese slid off his cracker so many times he said “to hell with cheese ‘n’ crackers.”  It is by the young at heart but old of bone who is led these days in a way he’d rather not go.  But this book is also for the gentle ones who’ve lived among wolves.  It is for those who’ve broken free of collar to romp in fields of love and marriage and divorce.  It is for those who mourn, who’ve been mourning most of their lives, yet they hang on to ‘shall be comforted’.  It is for those who’ve dreamed of entertaining angels but found instead a few friends of great price.  It is for the younger and elder prodigals who’ve come to their senses again, and again, and again, and again.  It is for those who strain at pious piffle because they’ve been swallowed by Mercy itself.  This book is for myself and those who have been around the block enough times that we dare to whisper the ragamuffin’s rumor–

ALL IS GRACE.


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