“The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Then a powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (1 Kings 19: 11-13 NIV)
The term gentle whisper might better translate as ‘the sound of sheer silence’. This term brings to mind the holy hush after a deep winter snowfall. The blizzard has passed, the word is white and waiting. As far as the eye can see, the landscape is blanketed in purest snow and no one is quite ready to interrupt the reverie with footprints and shovel scrapes.
This is the season I’m living in: the strange calm after the storm of child-rearing. Our home is so quiet now, our circadian rhythms only interrupted by the occasional whirlwind visit from our offspring. After twenty years of kids, I can finally hear myself think and the silence is deafening.
A few weeks ago we watched a National Geographic special on sound. In it, Will Smith and some science buddies climbed into a live volcano and then a deep cave: equally terrifying as far as I’m concerned. They were following sound.
It turns out that volcanoes roar like ocean waves: the tv audience could see it on the scientific instrument, but Will described the vibrations in his chest. The volume of a volcano didn’t surprise me; it makes perfect sense that molten rock would create a terrible racket. But the cave was another story entirely. Full stories below the mountain’s surface, Will and his team found sound on another level. Deep blow the rock, the silence roared as well. The reverberations weren’t heard but felt, and again, the scientific instruments proved their power. Of course, I thought of Jesus’ words about the rocks themselves crying out (Luke 19:40) and how astronomers have discovered that the stars sing their way through space (Job 38:7).
Yet in today’s text, in this bit about God Himself occupying silence, it hits home in a new and powerful way. The fact that we can find God’s presence in the absence of all else makes it even more profound. I suspect Moses in Midian knew it, and Joseph in the pit felt it, as well as Jonah in the fish and Jesus in the garden.
Making peace with the silence might be the highest priority of this season for me. Silence provides space to perceive God’s presence and respond to His requests. Silence allows for rest, reflection, adoration and restoration. Silence lets the din of the world fall by the wayside as the power of God looms large.
I’m still thinking about listening when I flip over to Isaiah amidst my daily reading. I’m realizing how often I’m willing to do anything but sit in silence and let the absence of anything wash over me. I’m the queen of staying busy.
“Why spend money on what is not bread and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to Me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare.” (Isaiah 55:2 NIV)
I read it again and realize we can bankrupt ourselves running from our feelings and attempting to address our carnal appetites. But our gracious and good God gives us a better way to live. He says, “Listen, listen to Me.” What He offers in silence and subtraction is far more sustaining that bread or busyness. He goes on:
“Give ear and come to Me, listen that you may live, I will make an everlasting covenant with you, My faithful love promised to David.” (Isaiah 55:3 NIV)
What we find in God is far more sustaining then what we clamor for in the world. He presents a covenant that will stand for eternity. He extends to us His love, but this is a limited-time offer.
“Seek the Lord while He may be found; call on Him while He is near.” (Isaiah 55:6 NIV)
This season of silence may be overpowering, especially after the uproar of child-rearing, but it is fleeting. Empty space fills up. My life will again as well. But right now, I have a divinely appointed opportunity to discover God amidst my stillness. He can and will accomplish something exquisite in this season if I refuse to hurry on out of it.
“As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is My word that goes out form my mouth: It will not return to Me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” (Isaiah 55:10-11 NIV)
Lord, please help us to learn to sit in silence and become more intent on Your presence. Let me match my soul to the pace of this season and embrace the tiniest whisper of Your word. We believe what You long to accomplish in this season is essential. May we be as cooperative as possible. Amen.