Smell the Color 9

“I would take ‘no’ for an answer
Just to know I heard you speak.
And I’m wondering why I’ve never
Seen the signs they claim they see.
Are the special revelations
Meant for everybody but me?
Maybe I don’t truly know you,
Or maybe I just simply believe:

I can sniff, I can see, and I can count up pretty high,
But these faculties aren’t getting me any closer to the sky.
But my heart of faith keeps pounding so I know I’m doing fine,
But sometimes finding you is just like trying to smell the color 9. Smell the color 9.

Now I’ve never felt the presence, but I know you’re always near.
And I’ve never heard the calling, but somehow you’ve led me right here.
So I’m not looking for burning bushes, or some divine graffiti to appear.
I’m just begging you for your wisdom, and I believe you’re putting some here.

I can sniff, I can see, and I can count up pretty high,
But these faculties aren’t getting me any closer to the sky.
But my heart of faith keeps pounding so I know I’m doing fine,
But sometimes finding you is just like trying to smell the color 9.

I can sniff, I can see, and I can count up pretty high,
But these faculties aren’t getting me any closer to the sky.
But my heart of faith keeps pounding so I know I’m doing fine,
But sometimes finding you is just like trying to

I can sniff, I can see, and I can count up pretty high,
But these faculties aren’t getting me any closer to the sky.
But my heart of faith keeps pounding so I know I’m doing fine,
But sometimes finding you is just like trying to smell the color 9.
sometimes finding you is just like trying to
sometimes finding you is just like trying to smell the color 9.

Smell the color 9. Nine’s not a color. And even if it were you can’t smell a color. That’s my point exactly.”

“Smell the Color 9” by Chris Rice.

Sometimes this is very true. I’ve never had any big experiences where I knew God was telling me something. To me, His voice is a quiet whisper, nudging me along. But I know the feeling of disappointment from not getting something. A good friend of mine gets dreams all the time, and I just get so mad. “Why don’t you talk to me like that?” I ask. The answer is simple. I’m not my friend. Books speak to me much more than dreams do. And I’m grateful, beyond anything that He talks to me, but I can’t help but wish it was different. But then again, if I was any different, my past or my personality, than I simply wouldn’t be me. And the same is true for you, too. 🙂

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