Turning off the distractions to say I am listening

​Several years ago I had a scary dad moment. I was sitting in my chair doing something on my laptop when my son Elliott came in and told me a story about something that happened at school that day. He finished the story and then began walking away. He turned around as he walked off. I looked up just in time to see a face that shook my world. The face of a child who knew an important story in his life wasn't compelling enough to draw his dad away from his work. Or more likely, away from some social media or a sports website.

I made a commitment in that moment of shame and embarrassment - when I hear one of my kid's voices I will look up and listen. I'm sure I haven't been perfect, but the awareness I gained in that moment has helped me be a part of conversations I'm sure I would have totally missed.

Lately God has used that moment with Elliott to remind me of the conversations I'm missing out on with him. His voice fills every second of every hour of every one of my days, yet the number of seconds I close my laptop or turn away from the zillions of cultural voices that own my life to say: speak Lord, I'm listening, are shamefully few.

It's amazing how one sided I've made my relationship with God. I talk when times are convenient or desperate and expect Him to immediately close his heavenly laptop and listen. But how often do I say, God, do you have anything you need from me today? Are you desperate for me to do anything for you?

How often do I say, God, how can I help you achieve your desires and purpose today?

Too often when it comes to listening, God gets what Elliott got from me. A man distracted by the pursuit of his own desires and purposes. As if any of those distractions could come close to measuring up to the voice that created the earth I live in and the people and places that mean so much to me.

That's probably one of the biggest reasons running has changed my life. Sure, there have been physical benefits. But running is where I most often turn off every distraction and say, speak Lord, I'm listening. And when I do, he comes through. Every. Single. Time. With messages and prompts and insights that shape me in the form of his desires and purpose.

Which leads me to believe that in that moment of missing out on Elliott's quiet voice, I got to hear God scream.