I Know You Hear Me, but Are You Listening?
Sometimes I stand still, and I look around and peer into the cosmos. A thing of chaotic beauty, and I start to thirst for you. The beauty of creation is a cosmic thirst trap. It draws me in and turns me out and makes me want more of you than my comprehension can handle. I’m like the deer that needs water or the infant that needs to nurse. I need you; I want you, I got to have you. The Maranatha Singers sang:
As the deer panteth for the water
So my soul longeth after Thee
You alone are my heart’s desire
And I long to worship Thee
Judy Blume wrote:
Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.
Now I’m saying: I know you hear me, but are you listening?
I know you hear me when I say the soul thirst is real, but are you listening when I say that if you don’t show up soon, my soul might fail to thrive? How long must I wander amongst the stars, feeling alone and off-axis, until you show up and tilt your gaze toward me? I know you hear me when I say I await your arrival with hope. I want you to happen. I want us to happen. I know that you hear me but are you listening, oh Excellent Cloud who plays key roles in the life cycle of stars and those who are of the Stardust? Your face is a pulsar to my soul. You make me beam and glow, I need your warmth and not your shade.
Sometimes I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Sometimes I laugh to keep from crying. My pillow is wet, my clothes are drenched, and I’m keeping Kleenex in business. We’re supposed to be Dog Stars, revolving around each other, but I’m showing up as a lone star because you are not around. Often, I’m taunted because you are nowhere to be found. They are questioning your commitment, your dependability, and your integrity. They are not just asking “Where is your God now?”, they are asking if you are even God now. I’m wrestling not to give in and ask you these questions too. I don’t wonder if you are, but I do wonder where you are because I know you can hear me and wonder if you are listening.
I sit here needing memories to teach me as my soul goes through another round of emptiness. I think of things that brought me joy, like leading multitudes into spaces of worship and praise. It was like being among the countless stars and adding our shine to theirs. We were stars and stardust, singing, shouting, and glowing in your presence. You were the sun around which we revolved. Your gravitational pull was irresistible. To be together, us and you, you, and us, was soul ecstasy. It gave me life and purpose. I knew unbridled passion and joy. The celebration was endless, and it seemed like goodness would never end. I remember. My soul remembers. All I have are these memories.
Oh, my soul, entwined with God, I know you hear me, but are you listening? Where is your hope, your confident expectation of good? Where is the love, the deep affection we shared? Where is your joy, the feeling of great pleasure and happiness? Where is your peace, your disturbance-free zone of tranquility? Stir up the memories of the God who knew you, and knows you, oh soul. Remember, God is your help. Just like the sun rose yesterday and the sun will rise tomorrow, God has helped, and God will help. We hoped before, and we will hope again. We loved before; we will love again. We were joyous before; we’ll be joyous again. We had peace before, and we’ll have peace again. Oh, my soul, entwined with God, I know you hear me, and I implore you to listen.
My soul has shrunk within me from the heaviness of despair. At this point, you feel like someone I used to know instead of someone I presently know. I remember how I once anticipated our encounters. I remember dwelling in spaces with you where love, joy, and peace were abundant. I remember the valleys you walked me through and the hills you carried me over. I remember being fearless when faced with adversity because you heard me and showed me that you were listening.
The expansive universe that is you, calls unto the universe within me because I originate from you. I hear your voice in the crashing waves of the ocean and the bubbling brook. I hear you whisper through the wind, and the warm breeze feels like a kiss from you on my skin. The song of Creation vibrates through me and keeps me animated. It’s a choir of many voices, but the sound originates from you. You are everything, and everything is you. Words often fail when I describe what it means to be swept up by you, encompassed by you. You take me away, and I’m gone, with no thoughts of returning.
The rising of the sun is an extension of your love. It’s the first light to greet me. It’s like a smile from a lover who is ecstatic that we are greeting a new day together. The tenderness this moment holds is breathtaking. The amazing things you do throughout the day to keep me safe and sane, foreshadow the tenderness that comes at sunset. The sun sets, the moon rises, and your song of tenderness enraptures me. It is a lullaby to my soul and a prayer on the altar of my heart. These are the moments when you and I become intimate. We get personal when you go from being the God of the cosmos to God the lover of my soul. You and I become us.
I ponder the Divine without and within. I shake my fist at the cosmos and vehemently state and ask, “I know you can hear me but are you listening?” I feel forgotten like we broke up without going to counseling. I thought we could and would talk about anything. When did our dialogue become a monologue? I’m out here getting dragged. My energy is waning because there is no relief in sight. I thought you would hide me from my enemies, but now it feels like you are the enemy. I hope you hear me; I hope you are listening because this is real talk. I can’t go on like this. We can’t go on like this. I need to be heard and seen by you; acknowledgment and visibility are extensions of love. Listen to me, see me!
Unhealed wounds can become festering sores, and festering sores can be life-threatening. That’s what my adversaries’ tauntings are to me. My soul is injured; the injury is reoccurring. Again, I’m taunted because you are nowhere to be found. Once again, they are questioning your commitment, dependability, and your integrity. They are not just asking “Where is your God now?” they are asking if you are even God now. I’m wrestling not to give in and ask you these questions too, and I’m losing. Now, I’m wondering if you are because I don’t know where you are. God, if you cannot hear me, you have no means to listen. God, where are you? I need you to hear me, and I need you to listen!
Oh, my soul, entwined with God, I know you hear me, but are you listening? Where is your hope, your confident expectation of good? Where is the love, the deep affection we shared? Where is your joy, the feeling of great pleasure and happiness? Where is your peace, your disturbance-free zone of tranquility? Stir up the memories of the God who knew you, and knows you, oh soul. Remember, God is your help. Just like the sun rose yesterday and the sun will rise tomorrow, God has helped, and God will help. We hoped before, and we will hope again. We loved before; we will love again. We were joyous before; we’ll be joyous again. We had peace before, and we’ll have peace again. Oh, my soul, entwined with God, I know you hear me, and I implore you to listen.
When you arrive, hope, love, joy, and peace will be abundant. Then I’ll know for sure that you heard me, and you listened.
Rev. Teña T. Nock is originally from Washington, DC. She has lived all over the US from the East Coast to the Mid-West because of having served in the United States Navy for 8 ½ years. Teña holds a B.A. in Psychology from USF (GO BULLS!) and is a graduate of PATHWAYS Theological Education Inc. Teña is currently the Associate Pastor of Digital Ministry at First United Church of Tampa, UCC where she is instrumental in expanding the use of virtual space and social media to promote the message of God’s Love and extravagant welcome. She loves to write, especially poetry and sacred spoken word.
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