March 23, 2012 by Beth Hess
These are precious, intimate times. Secrets between friends. A stirring in my soul in a way I know is only my Jesus. I recognize his speech. He calls me “child” and he sits really close. It’s a lullaby.
But sometimes He is loud. Still close. Still soothing. But loud. And clear. So there can be no mistaking the words said. He lifts my head so our eyes meet and His voice is heard all the way to the tips of my toes and the bottom of my soul. Trumpets. Roaring lions. The ripping of a temple curtain.
God’s loud lullabies.
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