Listen for His voice, He's calling

6:30 a.m. The alarm on my phone goes off. Get up, it urges. I sit up, rub my eyes, swing my legs over the side of the bed, and stand up to trudge sleepily into the bathroom. I undress, turn the taps on and get into the shower. My brain is still groggy and my thoughts thick. I’m not really a morning person. I sift through the messiness of my mind as the water runs down my back: song lyrics, quotes, verses, faces, names, ideas, memories, what time I went to bed last night, the dream I had, what I did yesterday, what I’m going to do today. I sort everything so that I’m mentally fresh and ready for the day. Another day. More decisions and choices to make, and chances to take or not to take.

I forget. I forget, in my organizing and fixing and mental notes and to-do lists. In my plans, my hopes, my fears.

I forget to listen.
I dress, go to the kitchen, eat breakfast. I start my day. I travel on, through another 24 hours. Everything goes fairly well. I don’t accomplish all that I set out to do, but most of it. I go to bed. I should feel satisfied. Yet I don’t. Something is missing. There is a hollowness inside of me. An emptiness.
But wait. Just wait. Click pause, and let’s rewind to the start. 6:30 a.m. The alarm goes off. I wake up, I sit up. I grab the bible from the bedside table, I open it, I flip through the pages, and I read. As I become fully awake, I absorb the words I read, I devour them. Man does not live on bread alone… I fill my heart and mind with them. And then I pray, I commit the day to my God and I ask Him to guide me, lead me, teach me. I offer myself and ask that I become a living sacrifice, a sweet aroma to the Lord. I seek His will, wanting to know what He wants me to do, in every situation and with every little thing. I listen.  How do you want me to live, God? I stand up and walk to the bathroom. I center my thoughts around my purpose as the water runs down my back. I have a purpose. To live for Him. I have a purpose, and the joy is more overwhelming and powerful than the emptiness ever was.
Do you know what I sometimes wonder? I wonder about the people that don’t know Jesus. My heart aches for them. How do they make it to the end of each day without Him? How do they live, how do they make sense of life, how do they go on? They starve without knowing what they’re starving for. They mess up a lot, just like I do, just like all Christians do, just like everyone does, like humans do, but the difference is that they don’t know He’s there to help them through it. They suffer.

To those who believe that Jesus is our salvation: Don’t pass on what is yours to have, every day, within easy reach, when it is lost to thousands all over the world. Don’t miss out on a beautiful relationship of depth with God. His guiding voice. His love. Listen to what He tells you. And wherever you can, whenever you can, share it with others. Tell them too, so that they find what they didn’t know they were searching for. Open your eyes and your ears so that you are able to open theirs.

To those who don’t believe: I’m not judging, I’m not criticizing, I’m not condemning. I’m crying out. I want to tell you what I have heard, what I have received, what I believe. It is yours too, if only you want it. Whenever you want it. No matter where you’ve been, what you’ve seen, what you’ve done. It’s yours.