Saturday night: It was one of those movies with an impossible soundtrack. Dialogue is at a near whisper and action scenes threaten to burst eardrums, making it impossible to find a comfortable volume. Not wanting to miss any of the Oscar-caliber acting scenes of 2010: Moby Dick, we opted for cranking it up.
Our friends, who appreciate a bad movie as much as we do, were enjoying the whale-chasing with us. Partway through, I was suddenly asked to pause the movie. As I pushed the button, the immediate silence that would have followed was shattered by an ear-piercing “Mom-eeeeee!” from our guest room, where our friends’ children had been put to bed before the movie. Mom quickly ran up to check on them. I sat, amazed at Dad, whose ears had picked up on the cry to which I was oblivious amidst the fray coming through the surround sound.
It turns out, we had Ahab and friends pumping through the speakers a bit loud for our friends’ daughter, who was frightened by the blubbery growls. (Little did she know that it was the B-level special effects and acting that should have been giving her nightmares.)
A little while later, after fears were calmed and concerns addressed, we resumed our movie at fewer decibels. The incident was soon forgotten.
Sunday Morning: Church service. Our pastor preached on Jeremiah 33:3 – Call to me and I will answer you and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.
As he spoke about how we are to call out to God, my thoughts (and, I later discovered, my husband’s) immediately went back to the night before. I wish I could put a sound bite here of that cry that was echoing in my mind so clearly. Those little lungs had been calling out with such urgency, intensity, determination, and faith.
Urgency – she needed help, now.
Intensity – you could hear the sheer emotion in her voice.
Determination – she was not going to give up until she was heard over the noise around us.
Faith – she knew her cries would be answerd if she called.
You could tell by the yell that she was just going to continue to ramp up the urgency, intensity, and determination until her parent was by her side.
She called out. She was calling with everything in her. Her Father heard her.
Are my cries like this?
When I call out to my Father, do I call out with everything I have?
Are my prayers filled with the same qualities as the cries of a child?
I pray they will be from this moment on.