It took only a few hours of silence before I began to hear my soul speaking. It only took being alone for a short period of time to discover I wasn’t alone. God had been trying to shout over the noisiness of my life, and I couldn’t hear him. But in the stillness and solitude, his whispers shouted from my soul, “Michael, I am here. I have been calling you, but you haven’t been listening. Can you hear me Michael? I love you. I have always loved you. And I have been waiting for you to hear me say that to you. But you have been so busy trying to prove to yourself you are loved that you have not heard me.” I heard him, and my slumbering soul was filled with the joy of the prodigal son. My soul was awakened by a loving Father who had been looking and waiting for me. Finally, I accepted my brokenness… I had never come to terms with that. I knew I was broken. I knew I was a sinner. I knew I continually disappointed God, but I could never accept that part of me. It was a part of me that embarrassed me. I continually felt the need to apologize, to run from my weaknesses, to deny who I was and concentrate on what I should be.

At L’Arche, it became clear to me that I had totally misunderstood the Christian faith. I came to see that it was in my brokenness, in my powerlessness that Jesus was made strong. It was in the acceptance of my lack of faith that God could give me faith. It was in the embracing of my brokenness that I could identify with others’ brokenness. It was my role to identify with others’ pain, not relieve it. Ministry was sharing, not dominating, understanding, not theologizing, caring, not fixing.

What does all this mean?

I don’t know… and to be quite blunt, that’s the wrong question. I only know that at certain times in all of our lives, we make an adjustment in the course of our lives. This was one of those times for me. If you were to look at a map of my life, you would not be aware of any noticeable difference other than a slight change of direction. I can only tell you that it feels different now. There’s an anticipation, an electricity about God’s presence in my life that I have never experienced before. I can only tell you that for the first time in my life I can hear Jesus whisper to me everyday, “Michael, I love you. You are beloved.” And for some strange reason, that seems to be enough. Mike Yaconelli

Matthew 5:3
You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.