Hearing the Word, Speaking the Word

I read a story this morning to which I could really relate.  It was the story located in Joshua, about Rahab, a pagan woman, running an inn and possibly a prostitute, who agreed to hide spies sent by Joshua's son, Nun, who were sent to inspect the land of Jericho.  Rahab had heard stories about the God of Israel, of the miraculous things He had done for His people.  One could say that she hid the spies (and thus saved herself and her family) out of fear of God alone, or because she feared these Israelite men. However, I believe that her heart was also moved by the stories she'd heard, by the stories of the Israelites and the lifestyle they embraced.  This was a time in history when harboring spies would probably, had Rahab been discovered doing so, lead to death.  She engaged in this activity at great risk to herself, but she did it anyway.  Because of her actions, Israel was able to acheive victory over Jericho.  The love of God had worked it's way into the heart of a pagan woman, saving her and all of those under her direct care.

I have never been a prostitute, nor have I ever owned an inn.  I have, however, been attracted by pagan lifestyles, battled with the demons of addiction, and spent many years observing how God behaves in the context of many different faiths.  I've prayed long and hard to be shown the right path, at times pleading with God for the answers that always seemed to illude me.  Practicing different spiritual paths did help me to understand people from different viewpoints.  I have always believed that in order to understand a culture, one must study the religious beliefs of that culture.  What my spiritual wandering did not do was lead me immediately to the answer I was seeking.  Standing in today, I can see how God lead me around many twisting pathways right to where He wanted me to stand.  While I was out on the roads searching, however, the paths often became twisted, dark and overgrown.  I always felt the presence of God, regardless of the names I used, and yet I felt there had to be a path meant for me, one way that I should take and focus upon.

I think that what really began leading me back toward the light was reading the words of another.  When I picked up Ann Voskamp's "1,000 Gifts" I entered into the world of a woman who is homeschooling, caring for a home, married to a man who works with his hands, and who earns his living through physical labor and the uncertainties that come with business ownership.  She doesn't glamourize the life of spirit, but speaks about life in the muck and struggles of life, as well as good times.  Being a homeschooling mom, married to a man who earns his living doing  physical work in a business he owns, keeping a house, sometimes wondering what life would have been life if I'd just gone back to school for art therapy and launched myself out into the bigger world, caring for animals and boo boos and preparing our daily meals, Ann's words were able to reach deeply into my heart.  The door was open just a crack back then, but  enough for me to read this book, to be open minded enough to believe what she said.

When my husband and I moved into the house in which we are now blessed to be living, we also were gifted with wonderful neighbors who homeschool their children through their church.  Nowadays, our kids run back and forth between our yards, and when they went away for a month of summer vacation, I missed the laughter and rucus of all of those children, their many and our one.  I have watched the way that this family live their lives, seen the peace the Mom always seems to hold deep within even when chaos is ensuing.  This doesn't mean she's always calm, or that her house is impossibly tidy (that would seem an impossible goal for me to reach).  There is something within her that shines outwardly, though.  One never knows how their own witnessing, even quiet, gentle witnessing (sometimes the softer type is better, actually) will effect another person.  For all of the book reading I have done, the rituals in which I've engaged, the prayers I have spoken, it was the way people acted that had the most profound effect on what I believe to be my spiritual truth.  Of course, the prayers were vital as well.  Sometimes the answers arrive in the words and actions of others, though. We need to be vigilant when we whisper (and shout, and cry) our prayers, on the lookout for the answers, which might slip into the most unexpected of moments and pass by unnoticed.