Just this past week God has been peeling back another layer in my journey of healing…although it may seem like a small thing; it was a wound I hadn’t realized was so deeply-rooted.
It all started when someone commented on my voice. My first reaction was to do what I usually do when someone comments on my voice and that is to disregard the comment/compliment, not because of rudeness but because that has been my pattern for so long. A pattern of disengaging.
I am learning to hear the quiet whisper of my Heavenly Father when He says, daughter I want you to look at this.
My voice has always been an area of wounding for me. But I didn’t realize just how much until recently or just how insecure and timid I felt about my voice.
As a child I was quiet and spoke softly. When I would answer a question my uncle had posed I never seemed to answer him loud enough to his satisfaction. He would begin to shout at me and criticize me; berate me and the fact that my voice didn’t project well because I was so soft spoken. And of course the more he yelled the quieter I got and the smaller I felt. I grew to dread speaking up, to feel apprehensive if asked a question in front of others. I especially got nervous around elderly people who were hard of hearing. If I had to speak louder I felt as if I was yelling and it felt unnatural.
Throughout the years I’ve had friends and acquaintances comment on my voice, but I never allowed their words to penetrate my heart….until now.
This past Sunday in church during the worship time I closed my eyes and just listened to the voices around me singing. The Lord quietly spoke to me and asked me if I had ever thanked Him for my voice? Tears welled up immediately and I had to confess I never had…….and though I wanted to, I could not bring myself to thank Him.
During my walk a couple of days later….the Holy Spirit brought some things to mind regarding my voice. I had never realized I had made so many agreements with the enemy regarding my voice. Although I have spoken at conferences in front of hundreds of women sharing my testimony, I always began by admitting that I’m not a speaker. Apologizing really.
I’ve always felt much like Moses who told the Lord he was not eloquent in speech. Writing comes much easier. I’ve always believed that I can articulate better writing than speaking. I made agreements based on what I’d been told as a child and the way I was belittled regarding my voice by my family.
And so this time when someone commented on my voice and I took the time to listen I knew God was up to something.
And so while walking this week I began to thank the Lord for the voice He has given me. I knew that I was thanking Him more with my head then my heart but that was all I could give Him at the time. But the tears so hidden were threatening to fall.
Then when I got home there was a message on my answering machine from my 3 year old granddaughter. She said, “Hi grandma” and then her little voice wavered….I knew what had happened. She had called and when the answering machine picked up she right away thought it was me answering, but instead it was grandpa on the answering machine. Then her little voice trembled, she was close to tears because grandma wasn’t there, and she sweetly said, “I love you grandma” and she hung up. I quickly called her back.
But as I write this the tears are falling. My voice does matter. To those who love me, and most of all to my Father.
My voice….your voice has been uniquely crafted and intentionally designed by God. Just as we know our Heavenly Father’s voice, we too are known by our voices. Just like my little granddaughter knows my voice. God has given every voice a specific style, sound and characteristic; He tells us we are fearfully and wonderfully made.
And bit by bit as the Holy Spirit brings to mind agreements made, I repent, and the healing balm flows….a little at a time…and ever so slowly I am thanking Him with more then my head but with my heart.