Discarding the Truck: Guest Post

This is a guest post by Josh Riebock. Josh lives in Texas with his wife and dog. He’s the author of Heroes and Monsters and My Generation. He loves 80s music. He doesn’t think TV is evil. He once got a really bad tattoo and he sometimes tells the truth. You can visit him at www.joshriebock.com

Discarding the Truck

A little boy was in the backyard, playing with his brand new toy truck, when he heard his dad calling. Immediately, the boy ran into the house, looking through all the rooms for his dad. Eventually, he found him in the bedroom, sitting in a chair, reading the newspaper. The little boy ran to his dad, and said, “Dad! I was outside and I thought I heard you calling me. So I ran to you.”

Setting the newspaper aside, the dad lifted his son onto his lap. Then he looked into his son’s eyes, and slapped the little boy across the face.

“Son, you’re wrong. I wasn’t calling you. Next time you think you hear my voice, you better make sure that it’s me before you come running.”

In a nearby backyard, another little boy was playing with his brand new toy truck, when he heard his dad calling. Immediately, the boy ran into the house, looking through all the rooms for his dad. Eventually, he found him in the bedroom, sitting in a chair, reading the newspaper. The little boy ran to his dad, and said, “Dad! I was outside and I thought I heard you calling me. So I ran to you.”

Setting the newspaper aside, the dad lifted his son onto his lap, and smiled.

“Son, I wasn’t calling you in here. But the fact that you came running when you thought you heard my voice brings me so much joy.”

I find the idea of hearing and responding to God’s voice to be an incredibly fuzzy concept. It’s wonderful. It’s frustrating. It brings me comfort. It drives me mad. Sure, I believe God wants me to be able to recognize his voice, to respond to it. And I believe that as I grow closer to him I’ll become more familiar with what He sounds like, but what am I supposed to do along the way? How am I supposed to respond to a voice when I’m not sure if it’s God, or just some voice in my head? And how am I supposed to lead others through this fog?

The above story is about this very thing, and more specifically, about reconfiguring my understanding of who God is, what He values more, and what I, in turn, ought to value.

Like the second father, perhaps God takes greater joy in my desire to respond when I think I hear him calling, rather than my ability to hear him perfectly. Perhaps God wants me to go where I believe He’s leading—even if I’m uncertain that it’s him, even if I’m wrong altogether—and to lead others to do the same. Perhaps God wants me to long for intimacy with him over clarity from him. But for that to happen, I have to see God as the second father rather than the first. I have to believe that He is that second father. After all, it’s my fear of what will happen if I’m wrong that often keeps me from pursuing the voice of God. But if I were to believe in a loving father who takes great joy in my eagerness to run when I think I hear him calling, then perhaps I’d come running more often, and spend less time worrying about whether or not I’ve got flawless hearing.

What do you think?