The Noise of Life

Go figure. There are times when my mind has nothing to say in the world of blogdom. Then then are times when I have three or four thoughts come to mind and I have to decide. Or do I???? Don't worry, only one thought today.
My van, bless her heart, (that was for you, Karen) is really old. She now has over 155,000 miles on her. You read that right. We purchased her in Nashville. She's been to Florida, made a number of trips between Nebraska and Nashville, several trips to Colorado, she broke down once in Sundance, Wyoming, she's faithfully shepherded me to camp in Arkansas. Her air conditioner hasn't worked for two years. I haven't wanted to fix it because I would have to retrofit it (new government standards) and that would cost way more than I want to spend. But she's been faithful. Until lately.
With the advent of the really, really cold weather we've had in Nebraska the last week, she's decided she doesn't really want to run. My son started it the other day and I could her it inside the house. He turned it off because it scared him. He came in and said, "That can't be good." I think it's the transmission. It makes a nasty sound every time it shifts. But press on we have. The noise isn't quite as bad as it has been because the temperature has been somewhat warmer.
Which brings me to my point. There was a pretty thick covering of ice on my windshield this morning so I had the defrost on full blast. You know defrosters, they make a lot of noise. So much so that I couldn't hear the noise of the transmission. I was driving down the road thinking, "Wow, this van is running all right." Until I turned off the defroster. No, it's still making the noise.
Satan is good at doing the same thing. We struggle, we moan, there's something wrong in our lives. There is a noise droning forth from our souls and we know that the only solution is to have the Master Mechanic, the Great Physician fix it. But then the noise comes. The noise from everyday life. This appointment. That commitment. Those people. Pretty soon, the defroster makes enough noise that we forget about the pain. It's still there, we just can't hear it.
I couldn't help think about a song we used to sing at the College Church in Searcy. The last time I sang it was at the Manhattan Church in New York City one month before the one year anniversary of 9-11. I may have mentioned it in an earlier blog. The words go like this:
Where cross the crowded ways of life,
Where sound the cries of race and clan,
Above the noise of selfish strife,
We hear Thy voice, O Son of man!

O Master, from the mountain side,
Make haste to heal these hearts of pain;
Among these restless throngs abide,
O tread the city's streets again.

It's Jesus who quiets the noise of our turbulent lives and soothes our hearts. When Satan tries to cover the pain with volumunous noise, Jesus hears our cries. And only He can heal the noise that emanates from our hearts. Have a great day! JW