The Gentle Whisper

There's a great encounter between Elijah and God in the book of 1 Kings that has always fascinated me. Elijah is fleeing for his life from King Ahab and Ahab's wife Jezebel. Elijah finds himself in the desert, nearly starved but for the providence of God. After 40 days and nights in the desert, Elijah rests in a cave, and the Bible tells us that the word of the LORD comes to him. God seems to ask Elijah about his purpose: "What are you doing here, Elijah?" Elijah responds by describing his zeal for God. God responds with this proposal:

"Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by." (1 Kings 19:11)

So Elijah does this. And a great wind comes through. It was powerful enough to tear into the rocks and the mountain! Can you imagine? I picture weather reporters knocked down by hurricanes, but I still don't think that expresses the strength of the wind. It must have been awesome, and terrifying, to behold. Such a picture of God's power.

But, says the passage, "the LORD was not in the wind." (v. 11)

Then an earthquake happens. Do you remember the small earthquake we had about a year ago? The epicenter was in Oklahoma, but it was felt as far north as Sioux City. I remember sitting at my kitchen table with a cup of coffee. One moment everything was normal. The next moment I felt I was falling but I hadn't moved from my chair. The hanging light over the table wobbled. A cabinet door rattled. It was extremely disorienting. As minor as it was, it made me feel small and out of control.

But, says the passage, "the LORD was not in the earthquake." (v. 11)

After the earthquake comes a fire. Growing up as the son of a Game & Parks Wildlife Biologist, I've had a few opportunities to be around for a "controlled burn." One in particular I remember. A fire break was plowed around a small field of dried invasive grasses and weeds. Men positioned themselves in a few places around the field to make sure the fire didn't escape, then a couple of men went around the edges with a small gas torch to light the grass. Slowly at first, the fire consumed a blade of dried grass, then a few, then a larger weed, then another, then it spread faster. Near the end, as the fires set in several places converged to the middle of the field, it formed a small fireball that rose quickly into the air. The heat was immense. I could hardly stand to be near it. Such is the intensity of fire up close, that you want to hide your face from it because you know it could consume you.

But, says the passage, "the LORD was not in the fire." (v. 12)

After the awesome power of the wind, the overwhelming bigness of the earthquake, and the intensity of the fire, Elijah must have been shocked to hear a gentle whisper. On the other hand, what else might coax him out of the cave? Had God shouted to Elijah to come out, Elijah might have fainted of fear. No: it had to be a whisper, a reminder that although God is powerful, and mighty, and holy, God is also love.

I love the songs we sing at New Cov. I love the music we use to join our voices in worship of our God. When we make a joyful noise, with loud voices and clapping and shouting, I am blessed by the reminder that God is miraculous, and bigger than any of us or any problems we might face. And I am blessed to see Him working in our hearts and in our midst, even as we worship.

But other times, I am blessed by the gentle, unassuming sound of voices, acoustic instruments, and moments of silence. I am reminded that God drew near to us in Jesus, so that we could draw near to Him forever. I am reminded that God is near. We can raise our voices loud to shake heaven, but we don't need to, because God is present. He's a God of intimacy. A God who restores. A God who gives second chances. A God who wants you, and me, to have our comeback. And he's in the gentle whisper of each moment of every day. Make time and seek ways to listen for Him.

Amen.