People say, “I pray to God; I talk to God; but He never answers me; She isn’t listening to me.”
What are you praying for? What are you asking for? How are you doing it?
Hashem answers in two basic ways:
1.) On the macroscale, YHWH answers in the Storm Cloud and in the Whirlwind. This is a Judgment upon a nation, a people, or a tongue, which indirectly benefits you.
2.) On the microscale, Shekinah answers but a question, which is Compassion personified. And it benefits you directly, Her answering your question about a nation, a people, or a tongue.
“I wanna new car! I wanna ‘nother baby! I wanna hit the friggin’ lottery! I want! I want! I want! Waah! Waah!”
Such a prayer is seldom, if ever, answered.
“Within this world, Lord, may all of your Stars Come down, and choose parents for themselves, who want and need them.”
A prayer like that, is often answered…
But not always. For even the Stars, have their freewill.
What is your motive, in asking for that? Are you being selfish? For YHWH considers your motives far, far more than He does your actions, in His Judgments.
Selfish prayers are seldom answered, unless the one praying unwittingly asks for something which will benefit a large number of people, or perhaps, the entire world. Such a prayer may result in a Sampson, or a Brahms, or the next C.S. Lewis.
Shekinah does, generally, answer every proper question Her child puts to Her; and generally She does it within the same day, and sometimes within seconds.
It may take some time…
For He Truly tries to use it sparingly.
The Tiny Whisper in the Ear, the Small Voice of Shekinah, is a Slight Touch and Breath and Rustling of the New Leaf, the New Bloom, the Green Branch of the Prophet, Newly Sprung from the Stump, from the Root.
And when Shekinah no longer has to answer any of these questions, the Prophet has grown into the Rod, the Trunk, the Green Branch, which Overshadows the entire earth, as with Outstretched Wings.
But the thing is, that you have to learn the lingo first. And it is different for everyone, depending upon the Dimension and the Universe that you have chosen to Come down here to Live within.
After you read the story to follow, think over your own prayers, and decide if they are truly being answered by Hashem. And open your eyes and ears, so that you may see how the Tiny Whisper is speaking to you.
Like I said; you gotta know the lingo.
Here is how the Small Voice works for me:
I rebuilt my picnic table in the grove, and threw my tools into the black and blue and yellow bucket, and took them in. It took me all day.
I managed to salvage six boards for reuse. But since I replaced the 2 x 4s with treated decking, I had to salvage two more of the old boards for legs, for additional strength and stability, which made eight saved.
Yes; pay attention, to what you are seeing and hearing. For it is through numerology, that Hashem describes the Universe. After all; the Third Book of the Word, is Numbers…
I supported four of the legs upon stones, which are uncut by human hands. In the Four Directions, the Leveled Expanse was supported by the Foundation Stones. (Know, that everything which you will encounter in your life, is symbolic.)
The two other legs were free in the air, both up and down, hanging suspended between Heaven and earth. And these are the Six Directions. (You have to keep your eyes on the Goal, and you feet on the Path, to Zion; and you have to be paying attention to the Way and Word of Hashem, 24 / 7 / 366).
I took two other uncut stones, which were thicker and bigger, and put them under my leveled table. And then the other four legs were in up the air, and the table was tottering like a seesaw. So I dug them in; but I was not satisfied with the result.
At work on the third day after, I was on an idle site. And behind the remains of the recut building, at the northwest corner, I found a stone hammer with a yellow handle and a black grip. The head was to the right, close to the post; the tail was to the left, farther away. I looked at it, and said to myself, “Black and yellow, kills a fellow.”
The place was abandoned; and they obviously did not know where it was; and no one had been in here for months. I could have easily taken it home, for they did not know what they had done with it.
The head was not at all rusty, which I puzzled over, as the hammer had been out here in the open likely all winter.
I picked it up, and put it in the piping which held the post to the recut building, where they could easily find it again.
Someone else may take it, who needs it; but it is not going to be me.
I find tools like this all of the time. But I only take home those which I find out on the road, as no one knows who dropped them. You will find all kinds of stuff on finders keepers, in the Pentateuch.
From the massive scrap pile, I took two small scraps of the right size and thicknesses, which had been cut and split by the hand of man, for my leveled place, my pad beneath the picnic table, within my grove. And I found a better one; so I switched the second one out, for the third.
But this bothered me.
Here are the circumstances:
1.) The operator had told me that I could take as much rock off of the scrap piles as I wanted, and as often as I wanted. And if I wanted anything specific, if I came by the yard, he could give it to me at a good price, or perhaps even free, depending upon what it was, or how much of it I wanted.
2.) When I asked about the landowner, he said that he lived in Baltimore, and only came up on weekends and vacations; he owned 3,000 to 8,000 acres; and he didn’t care what he did anyway – It was his production and rock, and he could do what he wanted with it, as long as the checks kept cashing. And besides; they had been friends for years.
3.) It was two tiny pieces of scrap rock, which was destined for burial in the fill.
4.) Only God, and I, and the ravens were there.
So I had full permission to take them; but still, for some reason, it did not feel right. So when I got to the next site in the same property down the hill, I tossed them out into the weeds, and felt better with myself, for it.
The site operator used to ride on my bus, when we both went to Nazareth. He was a year ahead of me. Imagine meeting him way up here all over again, after all of these years!
It’s a small Universe…
I pondered this stuff, all of the way home. I had advance permission to take buku more; it was not much; and I wanted and could definitely use it. So, why did it somehow still feel like stealing, to me?
It was because I absolutely did not need it…
I could make do, with what I already had.
All the way home, I pondered upon all of the nuances of this, and when do you punish a mother or a brother for having to steal bread to feed their own, when Hashem duty-binds all of the nation to provide for the safety and welfare of all of their own? Where is Righteousness become the Thief in the Night? Where does Judgment and, and Forgiveness begin?
Like I said: 24 : 7 : 366.
The next morning, in the half-light, I was coming into the ring of uncut stones on the mountain, the area which I had raised up and leveled in the grove for the picnic table, where the smoke pleasingly rises up into Heaven from the bloody meat placed upon the grill…
And there, behind the post of a tree I had spared in the grove, was my Estwing…My carpenter’s hammer, which I had used in making living space in the Fire Museum on Main Street in Old Bethlehem, the city of my birth, the city of my father, who also was a carpenter. We used to meet at the old, wooden counter in the Woolworths’ for breakfast for a while, I working in the Fire Museum right to the south of it, he working in the Orr’s right to the north of it…
At least, for a time.
The nuances of that, were never lost on me…
Look for your own nuances and circumstantials, in your own life…
I had not even missed my carpenter’s hammer. I did not even know, where it was.
My hammer was to the southwest, in the leveled grove. And my hammer’s head was close to the post, the head to the right, and the tail to the left. And I marveled at how little rust was on it yet, after having being rained upon so much. And I bent down toward the earth…
“I see, said the blind carpenter, as he picked up his hammer and saw…”
And as I leaned over, my eyes filled with the colored sparkles of the half-sphered fronts of the Scrolls that were grasped in the Claws of the Eagle, in the half-light of this morning. And as my hand grasped the blue handle of the East Wing, right from where the handle hit the head, oriented west, north, and south, a white Sephirah struck me right between the eyes, right upon the forehead, within the Third Eye, fast-coming and fast-going, leaving a hole in the Universe, within which is seen the Beginning, and the End.
And I thought, ‘The Six Directions…The Six Seals…YWH in the Six Perturbations…The Three, the Six, the Twelve, the Twenty-four, the Forty-eight, the Seventy-two, the One-hundred-and-forty-four Legs of the Bronzed Tools and Altars and Lavers, upon the High Leveled Place…’
And I picked up my blue and silver carpenter hammer and saw…
That it was lying in almost the exact position and referential closeness and angle to the tree, as was the black and yellow and silver and stone hammer of three days before to the iron pipe of the posthole, far to the north of here.
And that is how Shekinah whispers in my ear. And all of my questions of the day before, and of the long night in between, were answered in but a Single Flash of the Sephirah, and a recognition of the similarities of repetition.
For it is an entirely symbolic language; and it is interactive, and it is relative to the needs and wants and mindset and knowledge and level of observation of the receiver of the Message.
Pay attention, and observe. Open your eyes, and your ears. And learn how Hashem Is always speaking to you, and thinking about you, and Is caring for you, though you may choose to deny this, and His Very Presence. He Is always there; She Is always holding you, and picking you up, and trying to comfort you.
But do not wait too long; do not deny the Presence for too long…
For YHWH is waiting…
And the Rod?
It Is within His Hand.
Will He place it in your own hands, as your True Inheritance? Or will He lay it hard upon your stiffened back, as a further burden, and punishment?
Will you be Forgiven, and be taken under Her Wing, to rest Hedged within the Warmth of the Wisdom of Her Plucked Bare Bosom?
Or will you be Judged, and feel the Hard Cold Rod upon your back, and have the Frozen Thunderstones from Above crack your foolish head wide open?
The choice, is yours…
It has always been yours, since from the Very Beginning.
So, choose wisely.
Stop; look; and listen…
And Cross Over.
Gary W. Harper