I have to yell at him, Father.

Because he struggles to hear,

I must speak loudly to him;

And because he struggles to hear,

He speaks loudly to me,

With no sense of how loud he is.

It’s embarrassing,

Because our conversation is amplified

For all around to hear—

Even those things that are personal.

It’s tiring,

Because I am uncertain of our communication,

Unsure what he has heard

And what he has missed.

It’s frustrating,

Because I have things I want him to understand,

But I struggle to receive clear feedback

That shows that he comprehends.

But it’s not his fault,

So I try to be patient with him.

Are you like that with me, Father?

Are you patient with my deafness?

So often

I struggle to hear your voice,

Your words of direction,

or comfort,

or healing,

or instruction,

or wisdom.

Speak to me as he and I do, Father.

Yell at me—

Use a megaphone if need be.

For I am sometimes deaf to your voice,

But I want to hear you.

Doing something for you, bringing something to you—that’s not what you’re after. Being religious, acting pious—that’s not what you’re asking for. You’ve opened my ears so I can listen. (Psalm 40: 6, MSG)


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