God Doesn’t Speak to Me

I’ve said it emphatically and often.
God doesn’t speak to me.
I don’t hear His voice and I don’t feel a stirring in my spirit.

This is one of the many topics I want to cover in ‘I’m Not Wired That Way’ but I can’t seem to make headway in any of my writing projects.
And I’m not-so-patiently waiting for the breakthrough that I’ve been hoping for since I started the series.
Yet, nothing.
It actually seems like I’m regressing.
But, as part of my journey, I have been praying a lot more.
Intentionally praying. Today was a prayer of frustration as I took a walk to clear my head on a trail near our house.

“God, I’m trying but I don’t feel like I’m getting anywhere. I love the messages from people who relate to the blog but I just wish I had some answers. Any answers.
Is this even what I’m supposed to be doing?
Am I even the right person to be muddling through this?
I have multiple posts started but left unfinished because I can easily identify my struggles but I get stuck trying to find that positive, uplifting affirmation to close with…
Plus I’m mentally blocked on my next Elle manuscript.
(This rarely happens but, well, here we are…)
So why? Why do I even bother? Does any of it even matter?”

I was really getting to the crux of my venting when I passed a friendly couple walking a small dog. I smiled and put my head down, anxious to get back to imploring God.
I wasn’t finished questioning everything.
After I was a few feet ahead of them the lady piped up, “Excuse me, do you know how far this trail goes?”
“Yep. About another mile then it runs into the highway.”
I picked up the pace and got a little further in front of them when she continued, “Thank you! We’re from Oregon and only in town for the weekend so we’re not familiar with the area.”
I didn’t want to be rude so I slowed down a bit and asked what part of Oregon they’re from.
They’re from Portland.
They’ve lived there for 40 years and absolutely love it.
This may not seem like a big deal to you, but my next Elle book takes place in Portland, Oregon.
I’ve never been to Oregon.
I don’t know anyone who lives there.
I’ve never written any story that takes place somewhere I’ve never been.
So this was a coincidence I found interesting.
After a quick internal debate on whether or not to engage I said, “Well, I’m an author. I’m actually writing a book that is set in Portland. Would you mind if I asked you a couple questions?”
“Oh yes, please!” She seemed to have a chatty nature and her husband also gave off a welcoming vibe but he wasn’t as talkative.
This lady is the type of person who seems naturally gifted to draw out conversation. She was easy to talk to and started right away by showing interest in what I was working on, “What’s your name? What’s your book about?”
I smiled. “Well, my name is Stacey Spangler but the book will be published under my pen name Elle Iverson. I am a Christian blogger and I write Christian fiction so I use a pen name for my other stories.”
I asked a few questions about Portland that they were both more than happy to answer. Then she started asking specific questions about my blog.
‘I’m Not Wired That Way’ was top of mind so I started there.
I explained to her how I love God but I don’t always fit in with His church. How I’m nowhere near where I want to be. How I don’t do surface-level relationships well. How I enjoy sinning even though I know it’s wrong. How I feel like I have to fight for my faith. How I’m more comfortable with detachment than genuine relationship. How I’m fluent in sarcasm but fumble to convey the gospel. How I am much more comfortable uniting with people who feel like outsiders than socializing with those who have it together.

You guys, I felt like I was rambling. I usually only inflict my verbal disjointed thought process on close friends. Not complete strangers.
But we walked together for 3 miles.
We talked for 52 minutes. (Facts I have thanks to my Garmin watch.)
There’s too much that was discussed to possibly cover it all but here is the highlight reel:
They have two children my age who have left the church.
She prays for them all the time and wonders what they could have done differently as parents.
We talked about the why. Why did they stop attending? Why did they stop believing? Maybe because of the misconceptions about ‘Christians’. Maybe because of the trivial rifts in churches. Maybe because they just don’t fit in.
And we talked about the how. How can she reach out to them without offending?
I shared my experience of how my parents loving ministered to me even when they detested the choices I was making.
I encouraged them to be honest with their kids about the struggles they have so the kids don’t have an unrealistic view of what it means to be a Christian.
I offered that they could share any of my story if they thought it would help.

Then she told me that, as of this week, she resigned from a leadership position in her church because she feels like a mess.
Coincidentally, this year I accepted a leadership position in a ministry that I feel vastly under-qualified for because… I’m a mess. I was more than forthcoming with the director but she assured me, “You’re exactly what we need.”
I relayed this same sentiment to my new walking partner.
Be honest. Be real. Be encouraging and allow others to encourage you.
Get in His Word. Stay in His Word.
(Preaching what I’m practicing.)

When we parted ways she was crying. I hugged her (seriously, I did) and we both agreed that the Holy Spirit arranged for this encounter.
If you know me, you know I do not say that flippantly.
But, as they say, this was undeniably a ‘God thing’. The numerous specific similarities (that I won’t list to protect the privacy of the delightful couple), the fact that I’ve been purposefully asking for evidence of Him since ‘Out of Earshot‘, combined with the peace I felt afterwards, make me confident that this was a deliberate message from a loving Father to His semi-rebellious daughter.

I walked away without gaining any answers but with an overwhelming resolve in my purpose. And I rarely, rarely get to experience that.

I’m still struggling in a lot of areas.
But I’m feeling more at peace in my brokenness.

I still have a long way to go.
But this is an example of God meeting me where I’m at and showing me when I’m willing to see.

I’m still not the Christ Follower I want to be.
But I’m starting to feel like there’s a place for me just as I am.

I was able to see the effect of relaying my message, as incomplete as it seems to be.

I was able to see that there is a need for the transparent Christianity that I am passionate about.

And I was able to confirm the factuality of the location where I will write about gruesome crimes being committed.

I didn’t hear the voice of God today.
But I definitely saw Him at work.