I’ve read of Beethoven that, when his hearing was lost, he sawed the legs off his piano and laid its body down on the floor; then, with his head pressed against the floorboards, he pounded on the keys in an effort to hear the notes. He continued to write his symphonies even when one of his greatest tools—his hearing—was taken from him. Passion and perseverance are an explosive combination.
I should pray with that kind of unquenchable desire, especially when it sounds like God is silent. Like Beethoven, I ought to press my ear to the floor; I ought to search for the sound of His footfalls. I am “...a deaf man with my ear to the ground, listening for what You say.”I sort of love it that God dances with us like this. He weaves like the shuttle on a loom, coming close, pulling back, and irresistibly drawing all of us little threads into the tapestry created by His dynamic movement. By it we learn to ache for Him when He feels far off, and cherish Him when He draws near to us.
Even when God is whispering instead of shouting, He is relentless in His pursuit of the human heart.
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