We have 3 boys and they all LOVE to take showers. Like, love it. Our youngest is 7.5 years old and he may love to shower the most. There is one thing we can count on every single time he is showering...at some point, we will hear from the bathroom “Mommy or Daddy, can you please come here?” And every time we know why. He uses “grown up” shampoo so each time he puts it on his hands and starts washing his hair he calls one of us in there; it never fails, once we come, he says “Tell me when I can open my eyes.” We have all been there right?! You get shampoo in your eyes and it burns! So every night, we stand there and tell him when it’s okay to open his eyes.
I love that God meets us right we are, in moments we least expect to hear His voice...like when I am talking to my 7-year-old while he is showering. The other night the scene above unfolded exactly like it has hundreds of other times. I was doing dishes and I hear, “Mommy, can you please come in here?” Honestly, I didn’t want to “please go in there”, but I also didn’t want his eyes to burn; so begrudgingly I headed to the bathroom where I heard the words, “Tell me when I can open my eyes.” As I was watching him try to get the shampoo out of his hair, I knew that in this unexpected, mundane moment, God was teaching me something. How many times have I whispered, uttered, cried out, screamed those exact same words to Him.... “Father, can You please come here….and tell me when I can open my eyes?” There have been times during my walk with God that I just wanted to close my eyes, freeze, and wait on Him to tell me when I can open them. But then, in this moment, I heard what else He was trying to say. “Look at your son.” I looked at this 7.5-year-old, and while he was waiting for me to tell him it was safe to open his eyes, he was doing everything he could to rinse the shampoo out of his hair. He hadn’t just dumped it on his head, called for me, and expected it to come out. He was rinsing his hands and rubbing his head and turning around in the water; and when I saw that I realized, in that little moment what God was wanting me to see. “While you are waiting for me to tell you it’s safe to open your eyes, keep actively seeking me. Work in the waiting.” We serve such a big, good God, and He will meet us wherever and whenever; but that doesn’t mean that in the waiting we just close our eyes and sit there. Sometimes that is all we can do. There have been times where I didn’t have the strength to do anything other than close my eyes, hold on, and cry out to God, “Please come here!” And He did. And He told me when it was okay to open my eyes. There are other times, when I was walking through really difficult seasons that I was able to continue seeking God, even though it felt empty. There were times I didn’t feel like I was hearing from Him, but during those times I knew He was still calling me to obedience—calling me to continue walking toward Him despite how I felt.
I don’t know what you are walking through today. You may be experiencing incredible joy in your life right now, or you may be trudging through the trenches. But I do know—no matter where you are—God wants you to keep going. Keep moving. When you can’t hear the Lord or you feel lost or unseen by Him, take a lesson from my 7-year-old. No matter how he feels about it, he takes a shower every day. And every day he washes his hair. Keep doing what you know to do to “get the shampoo out of your hair.” Call out to God. Seek Him in His word. Reach out and ask others to pray for you when you can’t find the words yourself. I will end with this truth that has become one I hold so close from Isaiah: “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it.'" No matter what we see around us, no matter in what circumstances we find ourselves, and no matter how tightly we close our eyes, we will hear His voice behind us saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”
Praying this week that He will show us the way and that we will be faithful to walk in it.
Community Kids Director