A still, small voice

This week I've had the privilege of traveling to Minnesota and Wisconsin for the first time. I had a conference in Minneapolis, but I decided to spend a couple of vacation days exploring before the conference began.

This part of the country is quite beautiful.  It ranges from land that's pretty flat around Minneapolis (though very green!), to hills and falls and rivers, to amazing Lake Superior, to agriculturally rich farmland.

However, for some reason I was captivated on this trip by the sounds I heard. And the sounds reminded me of the story of Elijah's flight from King Ahab chronicled in 1 Kings 19. After 40 days and nights in the wilderness, Elijah had a lot of questions for God.  The response?  An amazing offer to stand in the Lord's presence as He passed by.  You may remember how this transpired:

Then a great and 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.

I don't know exactly what it was that Elijah heard, but he gained clarity from watching and listening, even to the sights and sounds that the Lord was "not in."

Not sure how it is with you, but I am perpetually surrounded by a cacophany of sounds - TV, Spotify or Pandora, the dinging of text messages or Words With Friends, phones ringing, background conversations, traffic noise, even things like the sounds of  the air conditioner cycling on and off, the dishwasher, the washer or dryer. These aren't bad things. But I often have a hard time hearing the gentle whisper of God in the midst of it.  It's good to have a change of environment occasionally - it throws me off balance just enough to notice things that I've stopped noticing.

I had forgotten the song the aspens sing when the breeze blows, almost like a tiny wind chime in the distance, swirling and whirling around the trees.  

The roar of water over Gooseberry Falls spoke of the power and persistence of God.  

Lake Superior was a study in contrasts, a huge almost-ocean that lapped quietly and gently against the rocky shores.  

The little skitter in the woods always made me stop in my tracks in hopes of seeing a bird or squirrel or chipmunk, holding my breath, waiting in stillness to see what would happen next. 

Even something recorded - Handel's Messiah - out of the official Christmas season, spoke the word of the Lord to me:  "For since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead.  For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive."  

So many messages from our Father!  Here are a few:

• I AM the breath - the holy wind - of life, ever present, ever speaking, ever refreshing.
• I AM the Living Water - life-sustaining, cleansing, bringing a steady pressure that erodes sharp edges and carries debris away.
• I AM the only being who is enormous and small at the same time - enormous enough to create the universe, while choosing to become small enough to dwell in the hearts of people.
• I AM revealing Myself in tiny ways that you will miss unless you stop, just for a moment, to listen and observe.  You think that's just a squirrel?  Take a minute to marvel at its tiny hands, to watch the way the sun makes its furry tail glow, to see its industry and enthusiasm for the work I made it to do ... and be thankful that I AM present in all the details, squirrel details and people details.
• Behold, I AM making all things new!

I hope in the next day or two that you can take a few minutes to listen to God's still, small voice.  Take a walk.  Sit in your backyard and watch the sunset.  Do one thing at a time and be fully present in that act, whatever it may be.  You might just get a chance to hear God's whisper in the ordinary ... if there is really such a thing as ordinary.