Seasons of Sélah

This is a sequel to my post on Sélah (I suggest you read it before you proceed with this), as I explore the process of divine disruption which often unfolds as we begin a season of Sélah in our lives.

The process often looks something like this:

Numb, dumb heart.

This passage of time brings to every disciple the relentless pounding of pleasure, pain and sin. These conditions can imperceptibly harden our heart, slow the arteries and make muscles once lithe, grow inflexible. We are generally unaware of the ageing process, but God sees and cannot look away. He loves us too much and cannot allow us to settle for less than full spiritual health. In order to call our independent minds and self-satisfied souls back to a place of spiritual intimacy and dependency, God must make our numb hearts begin to feel again.

There can be no movement in our lives until we are confronted with the reality of our current state.

This stage can be in the form of sleepless nights troubled by something that can’t be defined. A lonely time because of a feeling you cannot explain, even to God.

Wrestling.

Next, comes the time of wrestling, trying to make sense of the inner turmoil, looking for words to describe it. You study Scripture, vent in journals, read books, write songs (or unnecessary twitter threads), go for prayer walks, consider taking some crazy, counter-intuitive step. And God watches all this new activity with delight, biding his time.

Waiting.

When God eventually gives you a word (and this may take some time), things become easier. The internal storm calms and you can walk with some clarity with God and others. The chaos develops a pattern. There are no answers yet, but at least you have questions and will throw these at the Almighty again and again. This is the time of waiting and watching, and it can last years or mere minutes.

Blessing.

Finally, God steps in. The one who sowed the atomic seeds in your heart in the first place, the one who watched you cracking up and breaking down, the one who gently gave you the questions and waited and watched, while you learned to talk to him, and walk with him. He’s seen you grow and develop into the person you are now. He’s built you up through the fire. That same God now steps in to bless. A heart that was hard is now bruised and bleeding soft. An independent adult has become needy, humble and poor in spirit. A self-sufficient child has succumbed to a hug. You have learned to need and to heed, to wait and to watch.

The process develops your appetite for him, you become hungrier than ever for him, waiting for guidance, for a fresh touch.

There is a time in the process when God says nothing. When God puts you in the season of Sélah, he waits to see if you’re waiting. If he just flooded you with answers and guidance right away, you would not have changed; you would not have learned to wait and trust him without the answers and without a road map for the future.

Often we want to do something different (something that’ll change the world, something that’ll put us on the world map), but God wants us to be different before we do anything different. Which is why the season of Sélah is so valuable. As we wait for God, God is waiting for us to see if we’re really waiting for him, and not just wanting things from him.