When Voices Are Loud

I have rewritten this several times because I just can’t seem to get the words right. I return here a little less filtered.

Over the past week, I’ve had my eyes glued to my phone. Haven’t we all? I can’t stop reading news stories or refreshing my Twitter feed.

I’m not an openly argumentative person. I do argue with my husband weekly, but he’s my closest friend. I’ll pick a fight with that man over how he hits the brakes when he’s driving.

But, I’m not talking about my marriage. I’m talking about the people I associate with in my faith.

I think Satan is having a hey-day with us all.

If you are against whatever is happening in our nation, you’re most likely yelling about it to someone. If you’re more openly argumentative than me, you may take to Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram to spread your message. If you are in agreement with whatever is happening, it’s the same. We’re all shouting our convictions, and we’re all spewing spit in each other’s faces, wiping the spit from our chin, after we berate people on the Internet.

If you’re silent against anything a Christian should be for, you might as well just be against it. If you are siding with the “un-Christian” side, you’ve lost the way. “Go read your Bible! Apparently you don’t know it well enough!”

Our fingers are pointing, wagging, shaking as our fury is taking hold. Our fear is like a boulder we’re willing to run into over and over, and we’re willing to behave as if the world is our home.

In 1 Samuel, the people ask for a king. They’re tired of listening to God, obeying Him, and they want a king, just like every other nation across the land.

Samuel knows better. He knows the Israelites shouldn’t have a king, and he goes to God and says so. But God allows it. He gives His people what they want. For eight verses, Samuel warns the people of the outcome. If they have a king, they’ll lose their freedom. They’ll lose their rights. They’ll lose some of their grain, their livestock, their workers. They will long for relief.

And the people choose a king anyways. Even after the warning, even though they know they will be begging for relief in the years to come.

We think we know what we need. We think we have the greatest opinions. We think our beliefs are the only ones that should be heard. We’re wagging fingers, spitting in each others’ faces, and harming any chance we have of loving like a Christ who was killed on your behalf.

I can’t compare the king that God provided to the Israelites to our current president. I don’t even care to. I do care to point out just how much we are like those Israelites, the ones who believed they knew exactly what they needed, the ones who won’t be silent long enough to fully hear a God who speaks.

There’s a lot of voices right now. A lot of yelling. I think I’d be a fool if I didn’t shut up and listen for a minute. I would be a fool to yell back and never hear what people are saying, simply because I don’t agree. It would be foolish of me to only listen to everyone else’s voices before I hear God’s first.

He’s a sweet Savior. He isn’t absent or silent, and now, especially, is the moment to listen for His voice. It frustrates me to no end that I can’t turn off the news, that I can’t avoid the chaos of the world right now, but I know that I can turn to my God first. I can hear Him first. I can listen for His lovingkindness and His grace over me, and I can turn around and extend it like a helping hand.

I’m tired of the spit from others’ loud voices. My eyes are downcast as I see Christians berating and insulting one another all over the place, and it’s especially discouraging when they’re doing it to each other. It’s Satan’s dream, you know?

Hopefully tomorrow I can write less about politics and more about things that hold less fear and a little more simple joy.