Being told otherwise

It’s interesting the whole ‘listening to God’ thing. We talk about it a lot with Soul Survivor. It’s something I find both easy but difficult. Things tend to wriggle their way at me terribly abstractly. It appears I listen better when I have a couple of things to connect the dots. The other night Geoff and I were up at Surrender Conference as the Soul Survivor team were running the youth night. I was praying and God started talking to me about a well. I did a bit of a well, well (heh get it), what’s with this and I got this idea of this well that was terribly deep, unfathomably deep, although full of what – who knows, I did contemplate it but my mind baulked at all the cliches eg. God’s love, and it wasn’t actually that anyway because it didn’t feel right, (not that it’s not right…) so I let it slide.

I got to pray with a small crew – one of the guys had left his world behind (eg. possessions) and was seeing where it would take him, and it was good. I did a stint at the Soul Survivor stand, and a was somewhat accosted by a 9 year old asking about Soul Survivor. I did my best to¬† but he came back with a frustrated, ‘But what’s it all about?’ (followed by, do they do graffiti workshops?).

On the way home, I spent chunk of time thinking about the evening and then the question: ‘But what’s it all about’ for me personally. And to be honest it’s been a bit bland. Not sure what things really look like/where they are going and frankly I’ve been quite lazy about asking/finding out or thinking about things deeply (or just at a bit of a loss because things have felt at a bit of a lull) about what I should be doing differently/where to. I happened to also have been listening to a terribly old Sixpence CD (note that Geoff wasn’t in the car… otherwise it would not have been playing) I turned on the CD as I hit the Eastern, and the Lines of My Earth came on.

Well.

The lines of my earth
So brittle, unfertile, and ready to die
I need a drink, but the well has run dry
And we, in the habit of saying the same things
All over again
For the money we shall make

This is the last song that I write
Till you tell me otherwise
And it’s because I just don’t feel it
This is the last song that I write
Till you tell me otherwise
And it’s because I just don’t feel it anymore

It should be our time
This fertile youth’s black soil is ready for rain
The harvest is nigh, but the well has gone dry
And they, in the habit of saying the same things
All over again
About the money we shall make

This is the last song that I write
Till you tell me otherwise
And it’s because I just don’t feel it
This is the last song
Till you tell me otherwise
And it’s because I just don’t feel it anymore

This is the last song that I write
Till you tell me otherwise
And it’s because I just don’t feel it
This is the last song
Till you tell me otherwise
And it’s because I just don’t feel it anymore

The well is deep. I have been told ‘otherwise’.

I am not sure what this looks like. My suspicion is that this is the nudge to get things moving again. He is good.

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