Feeling God’s Heart

by Dave Witt, Network Developer of TrueCity

I’ll start with a confession; I have a love–hate relationship with the TrueCity Conference. I love the collective worship, the opportunity to share stories, and the buzz of conversation that comes when new relationships are forming and old ones are deepening. But if I’m honest, I just don’t like the risk organizing requires, and I struggle to be quiet enough to hear what God is saying. And that’s the rub, because God consistently speaks into my life and uses the process to shape me. Every year God shows up in a different way and brings me face to face with something more of what he has for me and for our network. It’s a good thing, it’s just never easy. But no year was as clear and challenging as back in 2007, the third year we held the conference. 

The first two years had gone well. Just pulling off a conference the first year was a huge success. The second year we were hoping for150 people and more than 220 showed up so, the third year I decided to make things bigger. I assumed that if it nearly doubled in size each year that it just might double again. I ramped up everything, and it was all coming together well or so I thought. I had high hopes, but our registration numbers never took off. The morning of the conference there were only 200 people signed up, and I was feeling apprehensive. In the end a bit more than 250 people came, it was good, but it wasn’t what I was expecting—I was really struggling to make sense of what God was doing–little did I know, my lessons were just beginning.

It was late Friday afternoon, and we had just reached that point when the event takes on a life of its own and all you can do is try to keep up. It was at this point when my voice suddenly started to give way. It was just a bit of cracking at first, but by 6pm when we opened the doors my voice was completely gone. I felt as healthy as ever, I just couldn’t talk. I usually love greeting people during that informal time before the conference begins, but without my voice I felt lost.

To the good, the rest of the planning team had things covered and everything was running fine, but God was up to something deeper in my life and I was finding it really challenging. Mostly I was wanting to be alone, which is hard to do with 250 people milling about. The one place I could find to be alone was up in the balcony which was ironic because I had dreamed of filling those balconies but instead here I found myself alone weeping with grief as the conference unfolded down below.

I had no frame of reference for what I was experiencing, all I knew is that I couldn’t speak and into the midst of my silence a deep grief was pouring in. God was letting me experience some of his grief over the divisions and brokenness in the Church in our city. It put my disappointment about numbers in perspective–God was longing for something much deeper to happen and he was letting me in on it. He just needed me to be quiet long enough to hear what was on his heart. 

I didn’t make it to any of the Friday night session. A couple friends found me afterward just as the coffeehouse we had planned was kicking off and we went outside together to pray–something shifted in that prayer time. I still had no voice, but when I came back in and sat anonymously on a couch in the corner, I could feel joy again. That coffeehouse is one of my sweeter conference memories–people from various churches hanging out together enjoying music and poetry and sharing good conversation. God was now letting me in on the contrasting joy he feels when his children play well together–but he still needed me to be quiet enough to take it in.

That joy continued throughout Saturday’s times of worship and learning. I still didn’t have my voice, but now I could laugh with people about it. At our conference team celebratory dinner that evening I sat and soaked in the joy of another year of deepened connections between churches. I was learning how sweet silence can be.

On Sunday morning I woke up early to have a time of prayer and reflection–part way through that time I got curious about the state of my voice.  And to my surprise, when I tried it out, it was back full and strong with no hint of even a crackle. Having my voice return brought home the reality of the power encounter I had just experienced. Now years later I continue to unpack how God was able to use that forced silence to show me more of the depth of his love for the Church in Hamilton–something I still have not yet fully grasped.