1 Kings 19:11-12

And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the Lord. And, behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake:  And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.

Lord, I would search for You

in the silence,

if only there were silent places

still to be found.

We live in a world these days

where everyone thinks

they must shout

in order to be heard,

a world where even

the morning mockingbirds

mimic car and fire alarms.

But all these voices that scream and cry

out and demand to be heard,

all these voices that accompany pounding fists

and stomping feet that shake the very earth,

all these voices carried on whirling winds

that spin and knock me down senseless,

all these voices that precede the fire,

and the storms of war,

not one of these voices is Yours, Lord.

Where there is chaos,

where there is noise,

where everything is frenetic

and frantic and an emergency—

not one of these things is from You, Lord.

You, Lord, are the One who

unravels the chaotic knot

the world has twisted itself into.

You, Lord, are the One who

stills the winds and whispers

to the world that it’s time to rest.

You, Lord, are the One who

waits out the tantrum and then wraps

the world in Your embrace.

And then, after You have put

the world down for its nap,

and given it one more sip

of Your Living Water—

when the world stops, finally,

and closes its eyes and lets

out a generational sigh,

then, You look over to me and smile,

put a finger to Your lips and then say,

Let’s talk.

Lord, I can’t tell You how much

I long for that day,

how much I am longing for

Your still, small voice.

Amen.