"I can't hear you!" was a favorite saying of my drill sergeant during basic training. He'd say it when the unit wasn't "sounding off." "Sounding off" is basically yelling a correct reply at the top of your lungs. "Do you love PT?" was a question I frequently heard at 5:00 am with my face in the grass, because my arms were to tired to push me up any longer, sweat dripping from every inch of my body - including my shoes. "Do you love PT?" The correct response was, "Yes, Drill Sergeant!" If the decibel level wasn't loud enough to feel, he'd almost sing back, "I can't heeeear youuuu." I know for a fact that he could hear us, it just wasn't loud enough for him. He wanted to hear us loud and clear.

Over the past few months, I've found myself repeating that dastardly line, "I can't hear you." No, it is not directed toward my kids. Them I hear too well. It's not the TV, it I hear too much. I keep saying, "I can't hear you" to God. I'm listening, I'm waiting, but I don't hear anything. See, I'm a bit like that sadistic drill sergeant. I need to hear God, and I need to hear him loud and clear.

Like so many before me, I've thrown open my future to God's leading. It sounds a little more pious than it is. (I've met some truly righteous and pious people. Trust me, I ain't one.) Still, I believe that God can do good through me, despite my inadequacy. So, I'm opening my future up to God's leading. "Where, O God," I ask, "can I best be of service to you? Where can I best utilize the gifts you've given me to bring you glory? Where best can I exist to show others your grace, mercy, and healing?" Yea. I ask these questions of Him. O.K., fine. I usually I don't ask them quite like that, but that's the general intent.

It seems like those would be safe questions. I'm not asking to be as talented as Bruce Springsteen, as funny as Jim Carrey, or as rich as Oprah Winfrey. I'm just asking about my next step. I'm just wondering which way to turn? I'm open and waiting, and in need of some divine guidance. Just a finger point. Just a nod. Just a word or two, but nothing comes; hence my line, "I can't hear you."

The funny thing is I know He hears me. I know he hasn't put down the phone and walked away while I blabber on. He's there and I know He's listening. There is just no reply. I keep knock, knock, knocking on Heaven's door but nobody comes to open it. I know there is someone in there because I can here the music playing. I can see the lights burning. So, I bang a bit more. Nothing. It is kinda like God peeked through the blinds, saw who was clacking the brass knocker, and slipped off to a different part of the house. I pray, I fast, I pray some more. I talk to trusted friends and pray some more. "God, I can't hear you," I am still saying months later.

I was hoping for a big sign. Literally, a big stinking sign that read, "Jeff, be a preaching minister for a local church." Or, "Jeff, go into the military and be a chaplain." Or, "Jeff, go back to school and be a counselor." Or, "Jeff, go and flip burgers." I don't care, I just need a sign. I just need a word. I'm hoping it will come like it did to Noah. "Go build a big boat." Or to Abraham, "Pack your stuff and move!" Or to Moses, yea, like to Moses. I need a burning bush. But in this culture, I'll take a burning billboard. I need to hear loud and clear.

So, if you have ever sought the Lord's advice, counsel, or blessing, and had to wait, what seems to be an insufferable amount of time, you "feel my pain." I know He's there, so I'll just keep on knocking. Jesus tells a parable in Luke about a very persistent women who pesters a judge so much that he grants her wish just to get rid of her. Oh, that I might be so persistent. Soon, I'll be able to tell of when God answered my prayers and I'll no longer be mumbling, "I can't hear you."