Man, this one's tough. It's tough because quiet faith doesn't come usually with a whole lot of fire; quiet faith comes in tired moments. Just when you think you've finally got some space to just rest for a bit, to not have to be so engaged in all this all the time, to just love God for a little while without demands, God says, move. God says, believe. God says, trust.
By this point, we don't want to. I don't want to. Moses has been back and forth and back and forth from Goshen to Pharaoh's palace, always getting rejected, always getting laughed at, always getting beaten up and brought down - by both the Egyptians and his own people. And finally, God gives him these bold words to speak, he speaks them, and then he goes home. Once home, he's exhausted. He's tired. He's weary. The last thing he wants to do right now is anything.
But God says, stretch out your hand. Hold out your rod. Sweep it across Egypt, and only then watch Me work.
Sometimes, I hear that. I get into these weary places where I'm glad that the fires just sort of settle down for awhile, where I'm thankful for the space to just breathe for a minute. And it never seems to fail. It's in these weary places that God says, just whisper one more word of faith, just make one more obedient decision, just say one more yes or no, and I will make the whole earth tremble.
And I just lie there in a crumpled mess of total exhaustion and think, not today, Lord. I'm just too tired to make the whole earth tremble. I'm just too worn out. I'm just too weary.
At the same time, it is these moments when I know most clearly that God really is who He says He is. It's at these times that I know without a doubt that He's for real. I don't question for a second whether He could - or would - make the earth tremble. I know that if I utter that whisper, if I make that decision, if I say that yes or no, if I sweep my hands out over Egypt, that the whole earth is going to quake under His incredible power and awesome love. I know it. Someone else is going to know how beautiful and amazing God is if I can just muster the strength, in this place of quiet faith, to move. So it's got nothing to do with whether or not I believe God in that breath; it's got everything to do with how I am appraising myself. I am just. so. tired. The last thing I want to do is anything at all.
It's in that moment that I have to choose a quiet faith. Knowing that no one else can see me. Knowing that no one else is watching. Knowing that God is poised to do a great thing, and all it takes is for me to do a quiet thing. A weary, worn-out, trusting, obedient thing. If I don't, He's not going to. If I do, the whole world will know. Not me; they won't know me. They will know Him.
In my own quiet whisper, from my own quiet space, from my own weary heart, I have to make only one move in a Godward direction and God will move the world.
The Pharisees never did that. The Pharisees never moved the world. They couldn't even make the leaves shake in the trees. They were too happy on street corners.
They never made it into prayer closets.
But this...this is where faith dwells. In quiet, weary, worn-out, solitary places that know with absolute certainty that God is on the move...and has the strength, the trust, the faith to make one unseen, unknown, knowing motion that pulls back the curtain for the whole world to see...Him.