Small Voices

Tonight I went to a baby shower at my church for a mom with twin girls. As soon as I walked into the room, I was overwhelmed—so many people, so many little groups, and me too afraid to exert my presence.

My mom says everybody is afraid of breaking into larger groups, of introducing themselves to strangers, of risking rejection. I'm sure she's right.

And yet....

Tonight the room was full of wives, of mothers, and of many young women who likely aspired to those offices as though they are birthrights. Tonight during the prayer part of the shower several participants prayed "that we may respect our husbands and be faithful mothers." Tonight as one person prayed for the twins she prayed that God might be with them as they grow "into toddlers...pre-teens...teens...wives...mothers...."

I understand that those are the natural steps in many minds.

I understand that wives and mothers need all the prayers they can get.

I understand that people like my church grandma who say things like "What are we going to do about you, Suzanne" have had great marriages and just think I should have the same, because they love me.

I understand all those things, so it seems a bit selfish and rather stupid of me when I start to feel so lonely over them—to feel shut out of the circle because I am one and not two turned one. (I've found that in general, no place is as lonely as church. Shouldn't the opposite be true?)

We're told that sometimes God comes with a still, small voice, but it seems to me that Satan has a small voice, too. It whispers that I would be justified in moping for ages about how lost I feel in the hallways; or how hard it is for me to talk to new people; or how disheartening it is that I could not be in church at all and there wouldn't be anyone saving a seat for me and wondering where I was. It whispers that the women at the shower tonight don't respect me as a whole person because I'm not a married person. It whispers that while everyone has problems interacting with others, mine are only worse because I am a second-class (meaning "unmarried") citizen. It whispers all sort of things I am ready to believe and to act on unless I am ready to defend myself with the weapons I have been given.

"The glory which You have given Me I have given to them, that they may be one, just as We are one; I in them and You in Me, that they may be perfected in unity, so that the world may know that You sent Me, and loved them, even as You have loved Me." -- John 17:22-23

Jesus gave us the glory the God gave to Him, that we may be perfected in unity. That we may be one. Beyond husband and wife. Beyond daughter and mother. Beyond all ties of friends and family, country and culture. One in Christ, for Christ.

I don't get to sit in a corner and feel sorry for myself. I have to pursue unity. I have to pursue the grand cosmic "us" of God's people, even though it's against my natural inclination to do so. I have to heed Paul's advice: "Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil" (Eph. 6:11).

I have to admit—and thank God this is true!—that I'm not the only one fighting down here.

Tonight the voice whispered to me that it would be okay/understandable/perfectly right for me to jump up after prayer and leave the room without saying goodbye to the guest of honor. I didn't listen. And when I did make my way to her, the first thing she said was, "When are you coming over?"

The Holy Spirit's small voice is louder than Satan's any day.