Monday, September 16, 2013

The Language of Love

Have you ever heard two people who speak different languages try to talk with one another?  Frequently, they start speaking SLOWER and LOUDER in their own language - as if slowing it down and shouting it out is unexpectedly going to translate into understanding.  During my two summers in Japan, I experienced this often and was sometimes guilty of it as well.  It was occasionally frustrating but more frequently comical as we all adapted, resorting to a modified sign language to communicate.

I'm so happy that God speaks every one of our languages.

Think about it.
He created every life...every person...every society...every dialect.
He even christened folks with His supernatural ability during Pentecost:

"And there appeared to them tongues like flames of fire, dispersed among
them and resting on each one. And they were filled with the Holy Spirit
and began to talk in other tongues, as the Spirit gave them power of utterance. " - Acts 2.3-4

Imagine suddenly understanding every one and every thing.
Communicating with every one and every thing.

Luckily, God's got my language nailed.
No, I'm not speaking of English, though that is my native tongue.
I'm speaking of my love language.
He makes it simple when He's speaking to me.
He often employs visual aids to illustrate his point.
And He knows, most importantly, that I hear Him most clearly (yes, He's probably speaking SLOWLY AND LOUDLY to penetrate the density) surrounded by His beauty.

Here were some messages to me on the weekend of my silent retreat...

I spied this bench from far away on the first morning and felt drawn.
No reason....just felt that I needed to pray there.

So I grabbed my coffee and neared the place, still not noticing its significance until I sat down.

Jesus knew I needed a blessed reminder of my Daddy at this retreat.  My father was Joseph...he has continually left us "heart signs" since his passing...he had a prolific and beautiful garden he lovingly tended.

(Thank You, Jesus...)

Right next to St. Joseph's garden, I found this little gem...

Theresa is my mother...

(Thank You, Jesus...)

There was water at every turn.
I am rarely more at peace than when I hear the sound of water rushing...trickling...crashing...cascading...flowing.
Oh, sweet peace.

(Thank You, Jesus...)



Lastly, the ultimate symbol of His grace in my life.
Sent often and lovingly through my Father for my father.
That heart & cross symbol yet again.
Ushering in my feeble but valiant attempt at beginning meditation in His presence.
Oh, sacred heart of Jesus.

(Thank You, Jesus...)

Yes, my language is simple but clear.
And His fluency continues to be overwhelming.
Thank You, Jesus...