Conversational Shorthand

My two best friends in the world are back in Oklahoma. Jon, Albert & I were virtually inseparable. Where one of us was, chances are the other two weren’t far away. Every Wednesday night, we had our version of poker night, but instead of playing cards, we’d play video games. Goldeneye, to be exact. Nothing brings friends together like running around in a virtual environment trying to shoot each other.

Since we spent so much time together, we inadvertently developed a sort of conversational shorthand. One sentence, sometimes even just a word, could replace paragraphs of conversation. For example, I could call Jon and leave a message saying, “Jon, I’m an idiot. Call me.” He knows that this means I’ve just called a girl in an attempt to ask her out and I’m freaking out about it, so I need him to talk me down. (Boy, it’s been a while since I’ve had to utter those words. But I digress)

When this happens, Jon will inevitably call Albert so that he can give me a hard time about actually having a date for once. So he’ll call me and, with no preamble whatsoever, just say, “So . . .,” in a particular tone of voice that has become so familiar. I know that this one word means, “OK, I know there’s something going on. Fill me in so that I can simultaneously support you and make fun of you.” This exchange between the three of us would probably be a ritual if it happened more than once every five years or so. Again, I digress.

This shorthand we’ve developed comes from the large amounts of time we’ve spent together, from the friendship we’ve developed and the intimate knowledge we have of each others personalities. It’s a comfort to know that, when I can’t explain what I’m thinking or feeling, these guys can take the few words I can give them and decipher the reality behind them.

When I pray, however, I often feel the need to labor over my words, making sure my requests are worded just right, working down a laundry list of desires, praises, fears, and so on. Wouldn’t it stand to reason that, if my relationship with Christ is where it needs to be, if I’m spending my time with God as much as I ought, we’d have developed the same kind of shorthand? I believe that’s what God wants from us, to take the time and develop that level of familiarity with Him.

Romans 5:8 says that, “ . . . the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.” I think, in my limited theological knowledge, that these “groans” equate to the same conversational shorthand I’ve developed with Jon & Albert. See, the more you allow the Spirit to work in you, the closer you’ll become to God. “Because you are sons, God sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, the Spirit how calls out ‘Abba, Father.’” (Galatians 4:6) Break this verse down, and here’s what I see. Because we’re God’s kids, He gave us the spirit of His Son, so that we could come to Him as our daddy. And with His Spirit, we don’t even need words to talk with Him. He knows our thoughts and our needs before we can utter them anyway. You know those days when you just come home, flop down on the couch and release this heavy sigh that you’re sure can be heard by the neighbors? That sigh, the simple expulsion of air from your lungs, speaks volumes to the God who knows you intimately and wants so much to be your daddy.

That’s the kind of familiarity I want with God, and that comes only with spending time with Him, an area I know in which I’ve been deficient lately. I’ve decided that deficiency will change today. I want to continue to grow in Him and to be able to develop that kind of shorthand where, not only do I know He understands my innermost being, but where I can recognize His voice among all the others clamoring for my attention. There’s a peace in knowing that ease of relationship is not only possible, but desired by Him.

Since this has been one of my lengthier rambles, I’ll stop here. I need to go figure out how I can be an “idiot” again.