I Got It Going And Told Nobody

The car stopped at twenty to ten at night on a road with three houses on it, and June Ann was on her own.

She did not panic. She has thought about that a lot since, and it is true. She got the hazards on. She called a number and got somebody who told her what was safe to try and what was not, and she did what she was told and nothing more than that, and after about fifteen minutes it started.

She drove it home slowly with the window down and her hands at ten and two like she was seventeen again. It went to a garage on the Friday and somebody qualified went over it properly and told her what it had been.

That is the whole story. It went well. From beginning to end, it went well.

She has told nobody.

Not her daughter. Not her sister, who she speaks to twice a week. Not the woman at church who asks her every Sunday how she is getting on, and means it.

It has been five weeks.

And it is not that she has been hiding it. Asked why she has not mentioned it, she would look surprised and say there was nothing to tell, because it turned out fine.

But here is what has actually been happening in those five weeks.

Every time it comes into her mind, and it comes into her mind most days, it arrives slightly smaller than it was the day before.

At first it was a night she handled. Then it was a night that turned out all right. Now, five weeks on, it is a bit of a nuisance in August that sorted itself out.

The thing has been shrinking in the dark because there has been nothing to hold it at its real size, and the only thing that ever holds a thing at its real size is being said out loud to another person.

Her sister asked her in September how her summer had been.

And June Ann said, "Oh, quiet."

An unspoken rescue is only half received

Let me put down what I am not doing, so nothing has to brace.

I am not going to tell you the night was more dramatic than it was. It was a road with three houses on it and a fifteen minute wait and a slow drive home, and I am not going to inflate it, because inflating it is exactly what would let you dismiss it.

And I am not going to talk about what it turned out to be. Somebody qualified went over it on the Friday and gave you the answer and that is where that belongs.

One plain thing first. Being on a dark road alone at twenty to ten is frightening, and a woman who tells nobody about the frightening things can end up further down than quiet. If there are thoughts in it about not being here, tell a person today: your sister, your daughter, a doctor, or the 988 crisis line for anyone in the United States. That is not a detour from this message. It is the most important line in it.

You were kept on a dark road at twenty to ten at night, and Scripture says He that keepeth thee will not slumber. Psalm 121 has the keeping going on while a person sleeps and while they do not know it is happening, and the Holy Spirit is what makes that a report about a fifteen minute wait rather than a general comfort.

What I want to do is show you a verse that treats the telling as part of the rescue rather than as something you do afterward if you feel like it.

I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD.Psalm 118:17

Read what is joined together in that line.

Live, and declare. They are in the same sentence, joined by an and, as one continuous thing. He does not say: I shall live, and later, if it comes up naturally, mention it.

The living and the declaring are the same rescue. The declaring is where the rescue arrives at its full size, because a thing that is spoken has a size and a thing that is only remembered keeps shrinking to fit whatever mood a person is in that evening.

And notice what is being declared. Not my competence. Not how I coped. The works of the LORD.

That is what takes the awkwardness out of it. Nobody has to stand in a kitchen and announce that they were impressive. What gets said is what was done, and who was in it.

You are holding a work of God that has never been spoken out loud, and Scripture joins the living and the declaring into one sentence. It is written in Psalm 118 I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD, which puts the telling inside the deliverance rather than after it, and His Spirit is the one who makes that a fact about a road with three houses on it.

You have a night that has been shrinking for five weeks because nothing has been holding it at its size. Psalm 118 has the declaring as the natural second half of being kept alive, and the Holy Spirit is what makes saying it out loud a completing of that night rather than a fuss about it.

Nothing to tell is not the same as nothing happened

Here is the sentence I want to look at, because it is the one doing all the damage and it does not look like it is doing any.

There was nothing to tell, because it turned out fine.

Consider what that rule does when it is applied consistently, and it has been applied consistently for a very long time, and not only about cars.

It means the only things that get spoken are the ones that went wrong.

Your sister hears about the bad week. She does not hear about the night on the road, because that turned out fine. The woman at church hears that things are getting on all right, which is a summary and not an account.

So the people who love you get handed, over years, a version of your life edited to contain the failures and none of the deliverances. And that same edit is what a person then lives inside, because a person hears their own account too.

That is not modesty. Modesty is not telling people how good you are. This is something else. This is a policy of not reporting when God shows up, on the grounds that the outcome was good.

You were kept and steadied on a dark road, and no verse anywhere makes a good outcome the reason for staying quiet. Psalm 118 has the psalmist declaring precisely because he did not die, and the Spirit of God is what makes a good ending the occasion for the telling rather than the excuse against it.

And I want to say the thing about your daughter and your sister, because they are in this too.

Somebody who only ever hears about your hard days is being taught something about you that is not true.

They are also being deprived of something. There is a particular kind of good that goes into a person when somebody they love tells them about a night that went well, and it has been withheld for five weeks without anybody meaning to, and for years before that.

Your sister asked you how your summer was and you said quiet. She would have liked that story. She was in the market for exactly that story.

You have people who would be genuinely gladdened by it, and Scripture puts the declaring in front of others rather than in a person's own head. It is written that he will declare the works of the LORD, which is Psalm 118 describing something said outward and heard by somebody, and the Holy Spirit is what makes an ordinary sentence over a kitchen counter that declaring.