It was a mistake. I felt it in the pit of my stomach even as I held the box of papers in my hand and shook hands with the salesman. Everyone was smiling and seemed to be happy, but I felt sick to my stomach. I knew it was a mistake. 

Then the mind game begins, and justification ensues. “It’s a blessing. We can have nice things too. God will provide. I didn’t hear Him say ‘no”. Or at least that’s what was playing in my head. As I replayed the events of the day, I saw moments where perhaps He was saying “no”, but He was saying it gently. We were just so caught up and enamored that we got distracted. Maybe an earthquake or a fire would’ve drawn our attention better. But it didn’t matter. The deed was done.

Elijah experienced God’s quiet voice in the mountain just after he defeated the priests at Mount Carmel. God showed Himself in a miraculous way there, but then Elijah got scared, ran for his life, and hid in a cave. Wind, earthquake, and fire swirled around him, but God spoke to him in a quiet whisper. The wind, earthquake, and fire were distractions. Elijah heard him in the still, small voice. I wish I had heard the still, small voice. God asked Elijah, “What are you doing here?”. I heard, “What did you do!?” Elijah ran for his life even though he had just witnessed an amazing miracle. I had experienced so much of His goodness that I got distracted by it all and forgot to listen. Looking back, I saw several instances where He was speaking, and we could have stopped but didn’t. 

But God is a loving and merciful Father. The regret was so much that I was disturbed for several days. I repented and asked for forgiveness. I knew we had not truly listened. In His mercy, He highlighted a way to correct the mistake, and it was pretty easy too. After a couple of phone calls and emails, it was over and canceled. It was like it never happened, but I came out learning a very important lesson in listening. Like with Elijah, He created a way to right the wrongs of the Israelites. Just because we get distracted or scared, He doesn’t abandon us, and He certainly doesn’t give us the silent treatment. He may not always speak with a loud-sounding bong, but if we quiet ourselves and remove distractions, He may be speaking in a still, small voice, “Not that way, this way, my child.”