God hears even when we hardly hear ourselves

As Scott and I continue to wait for more information about his diagnosis, seeking clarity for our next steps, we’ve been binge-watching The Crown and various travel shows set in Scotland, even though we’ve seen all the episodes multiple times, and I am somewhat mindlessly re-reading Agatha Christie mysteries. Sometimes it’s a relief to escape into some other world instead of dwelling on our current situation, so I don’t feel too bad about this coping mechanism.

 My other main activity has been an additional devotional practice that I would have done for Advent anyway, and it has proven to be invaluable during these anxious days. I’m reading Frequencies of God by Carys Walsh, an Advent journey through poems of R.S. Thomas. His raw honesty about the silence of God and the difficulty of perceiving God’s presence resonates with my experience, and his insight into the reality that God is always with us reminds me that we are held by the very One whose presence we seek. That’s very good news indeed!

On my Facebook page, former Bishop Charlene Kammerer reminded me that not only are we held by God but that we are held by all of you who are praying for us and lifting us up before God when we can’t quite do it ourselves, and that, too is very good news. Sometimes it feels too overwhelming to form words or shape sentences, and resting in the care of those who love us is all we can do.  

I am also encouraged by remembering John Wesley’s gentle, reassuring lines to Mary Bosanquet when she was struggling with her spiritual journey and was apparently finding it hard to pray.  He wrote:

It is certainly right to pray whether we can or no.  God hears even when we hardly hear ourselves.  ~ John Wesley (letter to Mary Bosanquet, March 26, 1770)

What a practical and deeply scriptural word of encouragement! I’m reminded of chapter 8 of the letter the Apostle Paul wrote to the Romans in which he confidently attested to the intercession of the Spirit on our behalf in sighs too deep for words, and for a moment my sorrowful soul is able to rest.  It doesn’t matter if I fumble with trying to tell God how I feel or what I want because the One who created, gifted, called, and sustains me hears the cries of my heart even when I scarcely know what I am saying. While that doesn’t make our uncertainty and grief go away, it does remind me that we are constantly in the loving presence of Immanuel, God-with-us, and that truly is the best of all.