I purchased a book earlier this week called A User's Guide to Bible Translation by David Dewey. To be honest, it was an impulse purchase. I came acrossed it somehow and after reading the description, felt the language lover in me rise up to purchase it. It came in the mail today! Immediately, I began to skim over its contents and felt a joy swell up as I read how the book goes through explaining the process of translation and different measures used to translate. The second half of the book discusses the different English translations of the texts. Now for anyone who doesn't know me, the reason I am an English major is not out of a place of love for literature but because of my simple fascination with language - what it does, that it's possible, the meaning of words, how they came to mean what they mean, what they mean mean, the importance of good diction, the wonder of grammar and how it affects meaning, translation and what the truest form was before it was translated... all of that. I am just fascinated by it. And in that, I know I am wordy - get it, it's a pun on "nerdy." Okay, point proven. Anyways, needless to say I find excitement in getting to read this book in the coming weeks (I have school and other personal reads currently going on to fit this into). My appreciation for words and language can generally be reflected in my loquacious lifestyle.
But the Father has over the past year been teaching me the art of silence - how much it says and what it allows for. The verse that has continued to be one that causes me to sit and mull over is Exodus 14:13-14 (NASB):
"But Moses said to the people, "Do not fear! Stand by and see the salvation of the LORD which He will accomplish for you today; for the Egyptians whom you have seen today, you will never see them again forever. The LORD will fight for you will you keep silent."
In time with Him, I often am reminded Psalm 46:10 "Be still and know that I am God." But when I walk in the world, I often feel that I need to fight and share what's on my mind. I did this a lot growing up. Probably too much. Between me, my brother and my sister, I was the vocal child. I was the child who talked everyone's ears off at dinner, but also the child who when my parents told me something I did not agree with or did something I perceived unfair, I fought back. They knew exactly what was on my mind and I fought to defend myself in the times when I felt like nobody was fighting for me or that I was in need of being fought for. It came to a point with my mom when after years of this mentality, my brother finally got through to me with the advice to just stay quiet, let whoever say what they are going to say and be done with it. It's not worth the time or energy. So I tried this; however, the pattern I had set in motion led to the following argument:
[I sit silently]
"What are you thinking?"
"Nothing."
"Yes you are. Tell me what you're thinking!"
When I realized that I was getting yelled at for not saying anything, I figured I might as well say what was on my mind; at least that way they would know what I was thinking and perhaps some of my logic would land with them. So I was back to being the vocal child.
As I have grown in intimacy with the Father, this mentality and course of action has greatly subsided to the point of being nil. I hate being in disagreements and with discord. I have given this old way to the Father. But as I have been renewed in this area, learning to just sit when the world is in chaos has been a journey. Not just, "Don't worry." But, "Be silent." It's learning to trust in a new and deeper way. It's coming to a place where before I even talk to somebody about a given situation the Lord has already taken care of it for me. At times, it is just seeing it in the small, medium and then big things. Most recently, it was perhaps medium sized, dealing with graduating on time.
I registered for my final semester this week. Even with senior status, I still had to request two courses because of some ridiculousness in the English department. The professor who could override me into those courses is one of my professors this week and for the past two weeks, he has mentioned the craziness of his life in this advising and registering period. I debated going and talking to him or email him about needing to be put in the classes. I planned to wait until after class the following afternoon to talk to him when he might have an extra minute. Hours before class, though, I went onto the registration site and found that I had been pushed in to the course I needed, which had rarely if ever happened before without some form of correspondence with a professor. I didn't have to say a word. I only needed to be silent and the Lord went before me to get me into this final required course. After class, I did speak with the professor to thank him for putting me in the course, especially when I didn't even have to speak with him about it. He was blessed by some gratitude, which I would guess in the high stress of registration is not something he gets to see all that much.It's in the little things that we can see the Father's grace shine through. Grace in teaching me what I can learn from silence: His faithfulness and provision, what He is saying in the midst of a loud world, how silence can change a fighting heart to a servant's heart, etc... I am so thankful for His grace with me during my years of being vocal. I am so thankful for His love and kindness that silenced and softened my heart to make it more loving and like His. I am also thankful that in and through silence, He has taught me my voice and how to use it. I am thankful that He affirms me when I doubt of the power of the voice He has gifted me with and its potential in Him. And all of this continues to baffle me with how there is language even in its absence.
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