I'm a doer person by nature. I really don't like to just sit around much. I'd much rather being hanging with people or working on some project. I have a tendency to get a little mopey when I have nothing to do or no one with which to hang out. In fact, I struggle with maintaining a regular quiet time because I spend much of my time in study for sermons and lessons anyway.
Recently I've been wresting with some direction for the church and my own life in various areas. So I knew that I needed some extended alone time with God. Our temps are ranging right now in the mid 90's, a little unusual for Missouri this time of year. I decided to go hit the links late in the day yesterday since my evening appointments had canceled. Alone time on the golf course is one of my favorite retreats. No phone. No intrusions or interruptions. Just a couple hour walk in nature with God.
When I need this time of refuge I always walk and play alone. God had pressed on me the passage from Genesis where God comes to walk and talk with Adam and Eve in the cool of the day, which I interpreted to be dusk. I reasoned that no one in their right mind would be out playing golf on a Monday evening when the temps were over 95 degrees and the humidity was nearly that much. I love late afternoon and early summers eve. The sun slowly sets. The wind stills. Nature starts its wind down from the day. I simply wanted to be still and hear the voice of God.
As I strolled up on the first tee my prayer was, "God, I'm coming to you in the cool of day. Walk with me. Talk with me. I want to hear your voice. Speak to my heart. Give me your wisdom and direction. I just want to be alone with you for a couple of hours."
But that's not what happened. Instead of a time with God that was encouraging or enlightening or inspiring or directional or even a time of face to face confrontation, what God sent me was seemingly torment. Instead of a still small voice I got constant irritation. There was a five-some of golfers three groups ahead of me that refused to let anyone play through and they were horribly slow. I was planning on taking my time but this was ridicules. I couldn't have alone time because we were stacked up four deep on every hole. I was standing around with two other groups of people on each tee box listening to them complain and be frustrated at the rude group in front of us.
Normally an 18 hole round of golf would take about 3-4 hours. I stepped to the first tee at 5:30pm. I stepped up to the ninth tee at 8:20pm. Three hours for nine holes is slower than a snails pace. We waited on EVERY agonizing, hot, sweaty shot. No rhythm to the golf. No voice from God.
As I FINALLY finished the front nine and the other groups in front of me headed off the golf course, I decided to push on and finish as many holes as possible before dark. Maybe, just maybe, I could get some alone time with God yet. Since I'd been stalled for so long I was hoping to finish my round. I started out pushing the pace to make up for lost time. I played the first three holes on the back side in about 15 minutes or so. But I was pressing and not listening. I made up my mind I was going to listen knowing that I wasn't going to finish the round.
I cried out to God again asking Him to speak to me, explaining to Him that I really wanted to hear His voice. I asked Him to come to me, to fill my mind and my spirit. Darkness was creeping in faster than I had hoped. As I quieted my spirit, listening for God's voice I hit the best drive of the day and followed it up with another pretty good shot just short of the green.
By this time the golf course attendants had pulled the flags for the evening. Just as I went to chip the ball onto the green, I was attacked by some bees. Now I have a phobia of bees. Although I've never been stung, I'm deathly afraid of them. It's nearly 9pm. It's getting hard to see. I've got angry bees after me. I went swatting and running all over the fairway. I finally had to rip off my shirt and went to flailing. It work for a while, but not for long. I grabbed my ball and clubs that I had flung and started in a quick pace for the clubhouse. I happened to be on the back side of the course, the longest distance to the club house.
Here they came again. I started swinging my shirt wildly and tried running with my antique pull cart. It kept falling over side ways. And everytime I stopped to right my cart and bag, back they came. I couldn't get away. In near tears and frustration with my cart on its side and handle in disarray and bees still after me, I screamed, "God, please protect me!!!!"
Fortunately He did. I never received one sting. The bees left. I hurriedly made my way to the empty parking lot where my van stood alone. After I nervously loaded my cart into the van fearing that they might have taken up refuge in my bag, I sat down on the open tailgate and nearly begin to weep like a school girl. Once again, I cried out, "God, I just wanted to hear your voice and you sent me irritating people and bees. I just wanted to walk and talk with you in the cool of the day." I felt truly broken and helpless at that moment.
I never did hear His voice which I still long for today. It took an hour or so and a cool shower for my pulse rate to subside. I was overwhelmed with a feeling of helplessness and hopelessness and lots of questions as I lay on my bed in front of a fan.
God, I'm still listening. I want to hear your voice. I believe you alone are my refuge and my rest. I'm worthless. I have no hope without you.
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