“Huh?” My voice became a series of squeaky, coloratura notes, “Yesterday, You told me ‘Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; yea, wait for the LORD!’** Today You tell me to depart? You keep doing this, giving me contradictory messages. What am I supposed to do?! How can I know?!”
As my Bible fell onto the bed, I reached for my brush. “I don’t get You.” Each word was accompanied by an angry pull of the brush through my hair. “What am I supposed to do?!” More hasty strokes. “If you want me to go, tell me where!” my arm stopped plying the brush midway. “If You want me to stay, just tell me and tell me what I’m supposed to do!” My voice reached a crescendo, “Just tell me what You want me to do!” I quickly went to my door, cracked it, and listened. “At least I’m the only one here,” I said softly.
“I can’t do this anymore!” I told my Friend. “I can’t continue to play Ouija board Bible!” My breathe came quickly, “I don’t care what Caitlin says. It’s too confusing. I’m not a spiritualist. Opening the Bible with closed eyes and then reading at the place my finger lands is like using the Bible as a Ouija board…” Thoughts percolated within my heart. I waited for them to coalesce into words.
My forehead crinkled. I breathed a loud sigh through my nose, “It’s like trying to force answers out of You to ease my anxiety. But maybe the anxiety is the cross You want me to carry now. It’s not as if I don’t know what You’ve been telling me all along, ‘Wait.’ I just want to know how long I must wait and You won’t tell me that. That’s why I’m playing Ouija board Bible, to circumnavigate You. To get answers You won’t give.”
A calmer face looked back at me from the mirror, “All right. No more Ouija board Bible. When I’m anxious, I’ll tell You. And when You have something to say to me, I’ll just trust You to tell me. You’ve been telling me all my life, I guess I can trust You now.”
I glanced at the Bible lying on my bed. “Please,” I begged. “Help me to wait.”
* Isaiah 52:11
** Psalm 27:14