When God Shows Up In A Silverware Drawer

I’m not sure why, but there was something about this particular moment –  Tim putting away dishes while I placed knives, forks, and spoons in their proper place.  Maybe it was the sound of our small talk mixed with the clinking of metal and glass that grabbed my attention.

Or maybe it was the silence just beyond the walls of our kitchen that screamed more loudly.

After such a busy year, 2018 has started very quietly in our home and the echo of the joy that filled December still rings in my ears.

Life is like that.

One chapter can be so loud, so full of energy and passion and purpose.

And you turn the page to find the volume so low you can hear the person next to you breathing in and breathing out as they sleep.

Or feel your own heartbeat as you lay silently in bed.

Or be stopped in your tracks by the sound of a fork landing in a silverware drawer.

I’m not sure where I thrive best.

In the insane chapters of multiple to-do lists and endless phone calls or in the super quiet chapters where I have the freedom to read a book with no one interrupting me.

But I do know this:

God never forces His way into my loud seasons.  I believe He’s always there, but I sometimes feel as if I have to push through a crowd just to catch a glimpse of His face….and then hope He’s still smiling.

I think God lives loudest in places like silverware drawers and the darkness of night.

I think He thrives in the most obscure places and finds silence the best attention-grabber He ever created.

He had to speak before anything came to be,

but He was there in all His fullness long before the planets spun in orbit or the stars hung in the sky.

Silence was His first creation,

and I think He’s most comfortable there.

He didn’t need words to become the Word.

“In the beginning was the Word…..”

And when He breathed life into man,

everything changed………..in an instant.

The gift of speaking was suddenly handed down to the world,

and words began to fill the earth as Adam created and spoke out loud new names for animal after animal.

The Creator bravely created new creators.

I wonder if He hesitated.

I wonder if He knew just how quickly this place would become a roaring ball of chaos and, in that moment, held back for a millisecond before saying, “Let there be…….”

Regardless of how He may have felt as He put time in motion………………………

Silence was broken by His voice,

and I want the silence of my 2018 to be no different.

I want my silence broken by His voice and His voice alone.

I want to “be still” and “simply know” much more often than I “speak out” and have no clue what I’m even trying to say.

Writing has been a struggle the past year and a half and I know why.

Like a knot needing loosened, my thoughts have hung tight, demanding close attention in order to be freed.

And it’s hard to giving something all of your attention when you’re looking anywhere but toward it.

Don’t you see it in the faces of those you love when you realize they’re talking to you as you’re looking at your phone?

We spend so much time looking down…………………………filling our lives with the noise of everyone else’s lives and in the end,

missing our very own.

We miss the voice of our spouse or our neighbor.

We miss the clinking of the glasses as they find their home in the cupboard.

We miss the sound of the spoons as they settle into their resting place.

But most of all………………

we miss Him.

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Thank goodness, He waits.

Quietly.

Patiently.

Lovingly.

He never turns His back.

He never gives up.

He never walks away.

He is the Faithful One.

Unconditionally loving us through our loudest chapters.

And holding us close in our quietest ones.

I’m not sure what your year looks like, but from God’s view I believe it looks good.

And I believe He’s right there with you in the chaos or the calm.

Whether you’re pushing through a crowd to catch a glimpse of Him or finding Him nestled quietly amongst your forks,

He is with you.

Emmanuel.

I’m so thankful for fresh starts and for a Father who shows up in my silverware drawer and simply whispers,

“I’m still here.”

He’s in your silverware drawer too.