Phone Calls from Jesus

It’s been a little over six months since we left California. Unlike our move to California, we landed in Georgia two days before school started, and life began in a whirlwind of action. Kids ready for school, finding sports, starting sports, house unpacked, all the things hung, all the things shopped and bought. My husband would tell you I was a force to be reckoned with, and I’m afraid for the first time in our marriage, I may have steam-rolled him in my busyness and grief.

The house came together quickly. I love it. Every day I wake up, I am reminded of the faithfulness of the Lord because of my beautiful home. The kids settled into school schedules, sports schedules, getting to know the neighbors, figuring out how to stay in touch with their California friends on a three-hour time difference. Joey’s new role requires him to work his old one as well, so essentially, for the moment, he’s attempting to manage two jobs well. Everyone was busy. Everyone is busy.

(Side note: “If Satan can’t make you bad, he will make your busy.”—Corrie Ten Boom)

With two kids in school, my days are spent doing laundry, shopping for a new house, preparing dinner, cleaning house, shopping for all the sports things and new layers of clothing we all require in Georgia. I joined BSF (Bible Study Fellowship) because it’s always a safe space for me to land when I don’t belong to a church. It holds me accountable to reading God’s Word.

But that’s all I’ve been doing for months. Reading God’s Word. Just reading and studying it. And He’s been faithful! His Word is alive and active even when my heart is not (Hebrews 4:12). I’ve heard Him beckoning me for months now, calling me to prayer, inviting me to silence and solitude with Him. To give Him just thirty minutes of space where I do nothing but listen.

I have excused myself and refused to engage with Him for months now. Too busy. Too tired. Self-care. The excuses go on and on and on.

Busy with what? Honestly? Seventy-five percent of my day is spent busy with necessary things. Errands, food, laundry, budget, household care, household organization, calendar managing, making appointments, shopping, keeping appointments, etc. The other twenty-five percent of my busyness is spent on things of my own conjuring. Empty thoughts and conversations with myself. Random projects not urgent, and as the week progresses, every day holds less of a percentage of necessary and more of a percentage of chosen randomness. The point being, I have margin on which to capitalize.

Too tired? Honestly? I know how to manage this. Yes, I work out. Yes, it makes me tired, but if I feed my body the food it needs (not wants), take my vitamins, and drink at least 64oz of water in a day, I can manage. What too tired usually means for me is I’m exhausted from the mental gymnastics inside my mind—the thinking, the spinning, the capturing of thoughts, and differentiating of voices. I am tired most often from over-thinking and over-analyzing. This also adds to my feelings of busyness and cuts into my margin.

Self-care? Honestly? When I am not in a mentally healthy place, I convince myself that self-care looks like internet scrolling and TV watching. All I’m really doing is choosing to drown out the inner voices with other voices. I’m choosing to temporarily numb my existence with someone else’s story. Doing anything without the accompaniment of music or television or for some, even a book, would mean embracing the silence of the moments of my margin. God might speak. I might hear His voice. (1 Kings 19:11-13)

Why have a been afraid to hear His voice? Why do I fill my life to the brim, edging out any possibility or space for silence?

I’ve had two new-to-my-story people in the last week question me, “Might you be angry with God?” One was even so bold to suggest, much like any close relationship, sometimes we give God the silent treatment because we’re so angry we don’t want to hear what He has to say.

I never wanted to leave California. How my life is now is not what I wanted.

That doesn’t mean it’s not a good, blessed life I’m grateful to have, and that doesn’t mean I’m still not angry. Both are true.

I think what’s hardest is admitting I’m angry with God. It seems like a dangerous statement, treacherous holy ground to throw a temper tantrum on. My God is All-Powerful, Sovereign, and Perfect in His ways. (Matthew 22:29, Colossians 1:16-17, 2 Samuel 22:31) Who am I to question Him? Who am I to doubt His methods? (Romans 9:19-23)

Yet therein lies the beauty and the wonder and the precious treasure of a relationship with the Father.

When I finally got quiet, when I finally took thirty minutes of silence and solitude to admit to Him I was angry with Him, He didn’t scold me or strike me or ignore me. He sat with me. He stayed. I could feel His very presence fill my mind and being, and He simply said, “I’ve got you. I always have. When have I not shown up for you? I’ve got this. I’ve got your future. I have My plans for you. You will know them when I need You to know them. Enjoy your children! Enjoy them. Enjoy the season of life you are in. Keep following me. Keep talking to me. Make some more time to listen to me.”

And just like that peace and hope flooded my soul. He never even addressed my anger because He knows better than anyone my anger is just a cover, a symptom, of deeper heart issues. Issues He spoke to directly with gentleness and authority.

He has been calling me to get quiet with Him FOR MONTHS to give me those words, those assurances. I robbed myself of peace and hope FOR MONTHS with my disobedience. I used busyness as an excuse to cover, hide, and not address my emotions. Yet when I laid my raw emotions at the feet of my Jesus, He accepted me as I am, right where I am, and spoke healing words to my soul.

It makes me wonder if all emotions are phone calls from Jesus. Calls placed beckoning us to come and have a conversation with Him about what we’re feeling. The emotions themselves He won’t condemn. Too often it’s the actions we take ignoring those emotions or reacting to those emotions that cause us to sin. What if we just took some time to answer His phone calls when we heard them? How much faster would we process our pain? How much less overall would we suffer? How much more peace and hope might we experience on a daily basis? How could that change our lives? How might that change our children’s lives? What would the ripple effect be for generations to come?

I’m just on the front of this revelation—emotions being phone calls from Jesus. Literally processing day one of this idea. I’m going to try living out the application of what it looks like to answer those phone calls. I have a feeling there’s a whole bunch of quality conversation in my future, and I’m looking forward to spending time with my Abba.