The streetlights had not yet gone off. There were murmurings from the houses that families were waking up to go to school, to go to work, to start the day. As Willie and Waylon and I ran by, the stillness and the silence of the day surrounded us.
The quiet was a stark reminder of how much noise I have in my life. The dishwasher running, baby toys singing, collars jingling. Noise that reminds us of life and of discovery, but also noise that distracts and dictates a busy life jumping from one activity to another. In the midst of these distractions, I find myself often running from the stillness and silence rather than running to the stillness and silence. I create more noise: fingers typing on a keyboard, hymns hummed while cooking, always moving about.
And after the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. After the fire came a gentle whisper.
In creating and craving noise, I wonder if maybe we are missing God. When we quiet our minds, our bodies, our souls, we, like Elijah, we might be invited into the presence of the Lord. When we do, we might uncover that our calling to follow God is in the midst of the noise of God’s people tearing down altars, breaking covenants, and even in the midst of prophets being killed.
But it’s only in the stillness and silence that we uncover our tendency to run when God’s call asks us to risk our statuses and our privilege. It’s only in the stillness and silence that we discover whether we will follow after God only when convenient or comfortable or whether we will follow God not knowing where the path leads.