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  • Writer's pictureDare to Hope, Inc.

Can Anyone Hear Me?

She called from across the table, "Can you come look at this," as she waved a Bible around in the air. Her thumb maintained her place. "Look," she said, "This verse stands out to me."

The page was opened to the Psalms. Bright pink highlighter jaggedly marked the verse to which she was referring.

Answer me when I call, O God of my righteousness. You have given me relief when I was in distress. Be gracious to me and hear my prayer. (Psalm 4:1)

"He doesn't answer me," she said. Her eyes were wide, and she waited for an explanation. Every question she had for Him seemed to hang in the air like a tornado of questions swirling around her.

Can You really forgive me?

Do You really love me like they tell me You do?

Why have these things happened in my life?

Will things ever change?

There is something innate in the desire to be heard and to be answered. Many times, the true cry of a heart is silent. It may never be spoken aloud. Perhaps, it is only prayed through desperate whispers into what seems to be a response-less void.

There is pain beneath the anger.

There is trauma beneath the fear.

There is hopelessness beneath the apathy.

Again and again, her heart cries out, "Can anyone hear me? Why don't they notice?" She screams for help, but not with blatant words. She may not ask , "Will you help me?" But, when you read between the lines... there lies the truth.

"No, He really doesn't answer me," she said again, shaking her head to emphasize the point.

The girl next to her interjected, "But, yeah, He did. He gave you that verse." This girl was speaking from experience, having had a similar conversation not so long ago. She continued, "He uses those verses. If something sticks out to you, He is using it. That's how it starts with Him."

Her expression shifted. Now a blazing light bulb was practically visible above her head. She ran to the bookshelf pulling from it an old King James Version, and she began rapidly flipping through the pages.

"I can't find it," she said with frustration. "When I first came here, I pulled this Bible off the shelf. For some reason, I highlighted some verses. Now, I can't find them."

The other girl took the Bible from her. "Let me try," she told her as she quickly searched until she came across bright colors which flashed as the pages went by. "See! It's right here."

She took the Bible back and hovered over the verses, her fingers tracing her highlighted words. Something inside of her shifted in that moment when she realized she wasn't at all unheard.

He is listening.

He is answering.

He is saving.

He is delivering.

Now, for the first time in maybe ever, she finally knew He cared enough to speak to her. She understood He cared enough to answer her when she calls.

May each of us yearn for ears that hear between the lines, to be more like Him.

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