A Still Small Voice

A nudge. 

A gut feeling.  

Something beckoning. 

A whisper deep within your soul that only you can hear. 

A still small voice. 

That is what I experienced this Sunday while sitting in church. I tried desperately to ignore it. I tried to reason with God and make excuses as to why what he was asking me to do was strange, awkward, and not appropriate. However, He didn't stop. He continued to nudge me and push me out of my seat to do the unthinkable:

Hug a complete stranger.

Gasp. NO! How unreasonable! What a complete fool you must have made of yourself reaching over to hug a total stranger. Here is how the situation unfolded...

We made plans with Josh's dad to attend Willow Creek on Sunday. Willow does a fantastic job of celebrating Father's Day with the true heart of a father in mind- a car show, and FREE HOT DOGS & RIBS. What dad wouldn't want to go to Dad Fest? We arrived early and chatted for a bit before grabbing our seats in the sanctuary. The service was delayed 15 minutes so that the early risers from the previous service could enjoy Dad Fest and those of us who struggle to make it to the 11:15 service could find a parking space. We waltzed in and to our surprise, the section we always sit in was pretty full. We managed to find a few seats in the back row and slipped into the center of the row. 

Sitting in a seat next to a stranger is always a little uncomfortable, so when we started to shuffle into the row, the woman (the one I would later be asked to hug) sitting next to me slid down to allow the always appreciated extra chair between us. We were both allowed our own arm space, as the service started. 

I always think about friends and family members on holidays, especially holidays that celebrate our parents. I pray for those without a parent because I know that those holidays have to be especially hard. Our pastor recognized that void as well in the service by asking those who were fatherless, either by death or by an estranged relationship, to stand up. He offered comforting words of encouragement and sympathy to the crowd of standing church-goers. 

That is exactly when my heart started thumping. I could feel the sweat start forming on the palms of my hands as the woman sitting next to me and her daughter rose solemnly.

I had been watching her and her daughter out of the corner of my eye the entire service. The mother held a headset tuned into the Chinese interpreter, but the daughter listened to the service in English. They shared a Chinese Bible, leading me to believe that the daughter may have learned English as her second language. All of this observation only added to my laundry list of reasons as to why I should keep my hands to myself. 

As the woman and her daughter stood to be honored among the fatherless, I felt the urge to reach over and touch her hand. I felt that feeling deep inside of my soul that beckons to you to show love and kindness to those hurting. I ignored it.

I heard the sniffles to my left. I decided that praying for the woman and her daughter would be better than reaching over and physically showing her I cared. However, I still felt that pull in my heart to physically reach out and offer her comfort. I ignored it. 

I told the voice that it would be uncomfortable for me, but mostly for her! She might not understand what I was doing, but inside I knew that a gentle touch translates as kindness in any language. I reasoned that she had moved down a chair because she didn't want to have a total stranger in her personal space but on the inside I knew that no matter what reason I gave, I was still ignoring the prompting of the Holy Spirit. 

Everyone sat down and the service was drawing to an end. I felt the Spirit's prompting again to reach over and place my hand on her hand. She was still crying. I ignored it.

The service was ending as we all rose to be dismissed. I was still trying to figure out how to sort of obey without actually having to physically obey. Our pastor was in the middle of dismissing us when he added a bit of a P.S. to his benediction by saying, "If someone around you stood because they are fatherless, please give them a hug and let them know how sorry you are for them today." It hit me like a lightning bolt. Was he talking to me? Did know the battle I was facing inside? I took a deep breath, turned to my left and touched the woman's arm. She turned to me and with open arms received a warm embrace from me. Her daughter also turned and allowed me to hug her as well. 

Relief washed over me. I had finally obeyed. I don't know that a hug from a total stranger changed her or her daughter. I seriously doubt it. However, I think it changed me. I was reminded that obedience, no matter how strange or silly it makes us feel, is what we are called to. I am more than slightly embarrassed to relive the details of that event with my readers because, to be quite frank, I would like to think that I am much more willing to follow the prompting of the Holy Spirit. In my own walk with the Lord, this event served as a huge reminder to me that no matter how uncomfortable I am feeling, I need to be ready and willing to do as God asks me.

I had a long talk with God later that evening as I thought about my actions that day. I asked for forgiveness because, even though I obeyed in the end, it should never take that long for me to listen. I want God to trust me with the big things in life and I want to be constantly ready and willing to do His will. However, in order to be trusted with the big things, I need to prove faithful in the small things. 

So, from here on out, I hug whoever God tells me to hug.