Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

listening to the Holy Spirit

Weekend One Word: Stifle

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Stifle

At first thought, it doesn’t seem like the Holy Spirit could be stifled, right? I mean, the Holy Spirit is wind and movement and a force. It acts on its own accord. No one can predict where the wind will blow. How could such a wild, untamed presence be stifled?

But I’ve been thinking about this verse since I read it last week, and I’m changing my tune a bit. I think I can stifle the Holy Spirit. In fact, I think I’ve been stifling the Holy Spirit for a good long while now.

Let me explain.

I have trouble resting. I mean really, truly resting.

Sometimes I look like I’m resting. I might be curled on the sofa in a shaft of sunlight, a book on my lap. I might be out on the back patio, a cup of tea and a plate of biscotti on the table, my journal splayed open, a pen in my hands. I might be strolling along a winding path with Josie, oak leaves rustling in the autumn breeze.

But look closely. In all three circumstances, I am doing.

That open book on my lap? It’s non-fiction, probably something about spiritual disciplines or how to pray better or how to break through writer’s block.

The journal? I’m ruminating on a verse, prepping a devotion that’s due next week.

And that peaceful stroll? I don’t hear the wind in the trees because I have head phones on; I’m likely listening to a podcast.

I am always doing, never simply being. Even in my rest, I am still producing (or figuring out how to produce more). And in always producing, in always doing, in never being totally still and quiet, I am not truly open to receive the Holy Spirit. My propensity to do, do, do is not only stifling his ability to move freely in me, it’s stifling my ability to listen and heed.

Think about it. How can we be open to receive, to be guided and moved, to listen, when we are constantly on the move ourselves, when we are crowding our every moment with productivity?

How can the Holy Spirit have the freedom to flow when we have filled our every space?

Where is the space for that Wind to blow when we have crammed every corner of our lives? Where is the quiet to hear the Whisper when we allow noise to snake its pervasive tendrils into every moment?

You may not stifle the Holy Spirit in the same way I do. Perhaps it’s not productivity and noise for you. Maybe it’s worry, or overwork, or fear. Maybe it’s an addiction or pervasive shame, a tendency toward obsessive-compulsiveness, a propensity for material stuff.

But know this: while we all have the capacity to stifle the Holy Spirit, we also have the ability to clear those channels, to loosen the chains that bind his ability to work in us.

It begins with a simple question:

How am I stifling the Holy Spirit’s ability to live and move and breathe in me?

When a Small Sacrifice Makes a Big Impact

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006 “Ten Things God Wants You to Remember.” That’s what was written on the front side of the card, along with a list: “I am for you. I love you. I believe in you. I will not fail you. I will be with you. I will provide for you. I will bless you. I will give you rest. I will strengthen you. I will answer you.”

On the inside, my friend Mary had written a short note. “Not sure why I thought you needed this card,” she wrote in red ballpoint, “but I did. You are loved, friend!”

I was touched to receive a card for no reason from a friend halfway across the country. Real mail is nearly a thing of the past these days, so when the mailbox holds more than the scarlet Netflix envelope and the electric bill, it’s a banner day. After I read Mary’s note, I propped the card open on the kitchen counter, right next to the microwave. 

“I really like that card,” Noah mentioned later as we sat side-by-side on the living room couch. “I like the words on the cover. They comfort me.”

I looked up from my book. “You mean the card on the kitchen counter? If you really like it, you can have it, you know,”  I said. “If you want, you can keep it right on your nightstand, so you can read it whenever you want.”

Turns it, it wasn’t me who had needed the card.

My friend Mary couldn’t have known Noah needed to read the words inscribed on that DaySpring card. I hadn’t known. Noah himself probably hadn’t known. But those words were the exact message he needed to hear. And they were sent by someone he’d never even met, someone in Pennsylvania who’d simply obeyed a nudge,  a sense that those words were needed out here on the Great Plains.

I think sometimes we assume that if our gestures aren’t grand, if our sacrifices aren’t radical, then we aren’t truly “all in,” we aren’t truly living for God.

We believe that if we aren’t founding orphanages in Uganda or digging wells in Kenya, we aren’t really living an obedient, sacrificial life, a Jesusy-enough life. When our service seems ordinary, we wonder if we are “doing enough.”

Now, I have nothing against founding orphanages and digging wells. If that’s your calling, if that’s where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet, as Frederick Buechner said, then I say go for it with gusto.

But if your acts of loving kindness and service are less dramatic — a little more Hallmark, a little less Habitat for Humanity — I say carry on with confidence.

Listen to the Holy Spirit and heed. Follow through on those subtle nudges, those gentle prods in your heart. Because you never know – as Mother Teresa once said, your one small thing may offer someone a glimpse of great love.

“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin…” (Zechariah 4:10)