I've been reflecting a bit this week on what it looks like to live life more fully. What is it that “deadens” my soul, and what it is that “wakens” it to God? As I was thinking about this, I was reminded of Michael Yaconelli's provoking words in the opening of his book Dangerous Wonder: The Adventure of Childlike Faith.
"This voice of our childhood, is the voice of wonder and amazement, the voice of God, which has always been speaking to us, even before we were born.
One sad day, we are aware of an absence. We can no longer hear the God-voice, and we are left with only silence – not a quiet silence but a roaring silence.
We did not want to stop hearing God’s voice. Indeed, God kept on speaking. But our lives became louder. The increasing crescendo of our possessions, the ear-piercing noise of busyness, and the soul-smothering volume of our endless activity drowned out the still, small voice of God.
What happened? What happened to our aliveness? How could we grow up, accumulate twelve to fifteen years of education (or more), get married, have children, work for decades, are never really live?
The death of the soul is never quick. It is a slow dying, a succession of little deaths that continues until we wake up one day on the edge of God’s voice, on the fringe of God’s belovedness, beyond the adventure of God’s claim on our lives."