LEARNING TO LISTEN
My first experience skiing came when my husband and I briefly lived in Colorado. Wanting to be wise about it, we took a lesson. The instructor showed us some basics, then counseled us to practice on the bunny slope the rest of the day and return the next day for another lesson.
We did practice. Over and over. Then we got bored. The bunny slope lost its appeal. We felt we had mastered the basics, and decided we were ready to go up the mountain to a real slope.
The chair lift presented the first challenge. The bunny slope had a rope tow which we grabbed to pull us up the hill. The chair lift required a more sophisticated procedure. Doug inquired of the lift operator. When Doug returned, he intended to explain the process, then we would get on together. However, as he briefed me on what to do, I did it. The euphoria I felt over being in the air and on my way only lasted a moment because I quickly realized I didn’t know how to get off. With Doug in another chair somewhere behind me, I had no hope of finding out before time to disembark.
I didn’t know what it meant when a sign near the top, advised, “prepare to jump.” I learned soon enough I needed to push myself off the seat and drop a few inches to the off ramp, then ski away from the lift. However, because of my inexperience, I immediately fell. This caused the people in the next chair to fall over me.
Pressing on, we started down the slope. It soon became apparent the basics were inadequate for the task at hand. The instructor had showed us a technique called the snowplow to enable us to turn. It worked fine on the bunny slope. When I started down the slope, I discovered the snowplow was not enough to let me turn with the increased steepness and speed. Without the strength to turn to traverse the slope as I had been taught, I went straight down the fall line.
Though my speed increased, I managed somehow to stay upright. But then, the trail turned. All I could see ahead were the tops of trees. I had to do something to avoid going over the cliff in front of me, so I intentionally fell down. But because of my speed, I rolled, head over heels. When I finally stopped and opened my eyes, a crowd had gathered to make sure I was okay. Only my pride was hurt. From there I made it to the bottom by repeating a pattern of skiing a few feet then sitting down.
We spent the rest of the afternoon back at the bunny slope. We did return the next day for another lesson. Our venture up the mountain had exceeded our skill set. We ran ahead of our instructor.
Sometimes we run ahead of God. We try to use a skill set He has not yet given. When God wants us to wait, and we try to force doors He has not yet opened, or manipulate circumstances over which we really have no control, we set ourselves up for disappointment and frustration. I am still learning to listen for His guidance.
Anything God directs us to will line up with Scripture. We can push gently on the opportunities in front of us to determine if they are from God, but if things are not moving as quickly or as well as we want, it may mean it is not His timing, or it is just not His path for us. We run ahead of God when we insist we are going to make something work, in our time, no matter what. If we instead pray, and listen, He has a way of making clear where we need to be.
Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.
Psalm 27:14 NLT
I would love to hear your thoughts. What is God showing you as you are learning to listen for His way? Please leave a comment below.
Blessings,
Phyllis
© 2023 and 2026 Phyllis L. Farringer
Image by Adam Derewecki from Pixabay
*A re-issue of a popular post
There is a song by Gordon Lightfoot which is a favorite of mine.
It’s called Rainy Day People. It relates to listening.
Thanks, George.
Thanks for sharing, Phyllis. I’m glad you all were okay and not injured! The analogy is certainly apropos – I usually get into difficulties when I run ahead of God.
Thanks, Joni. Yes, things go better when we seek God and His timing.