While we could bemoan the fact that God does not say more and that He does not speak more plainly, it is humbling that He has spoken at all. I rejoice that so much has been revealed and so much made clear. Standing in the mouth of the cave, Elijah heard the rumble, felt the turbulent winds, and saw the flames, but they spoke no divine truths. It has been the same in my searching. God is not in the quake, the wind, nor the flame. I know He loves me because the Bible tells me so. In the end this was what I most wanted to know—that despite what my fears might say, I am loved all the more and not forgotten.
To be ignored, to be dismissed or overlooked, to be considered unworthy of a person’s time—this is a terrible thing. What I fear most deeply is not that I cannot hear God but that He is entirely silent. What I fear most is that He does not care to speak to me at all and that my prayers are given over to the void. The fear I harbor is not that God does not hear but that He does not care. I quiver at the thought that the silence I perceive is really indifference. Perhaps you know what I mean.
While I know that Christ cares and loves me, I cannot touch the scars in His hands nor put my finger in His side. He can neither touch me on the shoulder nor whisper comfort in my ear. Some have seen Him and some have heard Him, but I walk by faith and that—haltingly. My heart desires a more tangible sign of His presence than the inner whisper, a seemingly surer guide than the spiritual and unseen God. My heart desires what I can see, hold, touch, and taste. And this is chiefly what the world sells.
The fire, the wind, and the earthquake have a reality to them that is attractive. These are the voices of ambition, competition, pride, and insecurity. I can see, feel, and hear them in the voices that call me to the “American Dream.” I see them imaged as new and faster cars, brighter, whiter smiles and a promise that happiness accompanies fame and fortune. I am most deceived by the choices, the many choices that make the whisper of His voice even more faint, even more strange.
Tonight, as I settle down to sleep I will remember the words of Eli to young Samuel, “Go and lie down, and if he calls you, say, ‘Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening’” (1Sam. 3:9). Tonight I will begin a new way of living for and thinking of God. Instead of doubting, instead of fearing, I will trust that He is speaking and wait patiently to hear Him. I will not stir at the sound of the earthquake. I will not give heed to the rushing wind. I will ignore the ravenous flames and await the whisper. “Speak Lord…”
1Kings 19:11-12, Prov. 30:16, Heb 13:5
Copyright(C)Hudson Russell Davis