Chapter 19 of the 1st book of Kings tells of Elijah’s encounter with God on the mountain:
There was a strong and violent wind rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the Lord—but the Lord was not in the wind; after the wind, an earthquake—but the Lord was not in the earthquake; after the earthquake, fire—but the Lord was not in the fire; after the fire, a light silent sound.
When Elijah heard the light silent sound he knew he was in the presence of God.
We may yearn to know the will of God, to know what God expects of us. We may yearn to hear his voice.
The Bible tells of us of the experience of others, of how they perceived the will of God, of how they heard his voice.
The lives of the saints are similar. We learn how they came to discern God’s will, how they heard God’s call.
We may cry out in the depths of our hearts, “Lord, why did you allow this to happen? Lord, where are you leading me? Lord, what do you want of me?
Can it be that God ignores our plea? that God doesn’t hear our cry? that God is indifferent to our plight?
No!
God always answers—and God often answers in ways we do not expect.
If you’re expecting dramatic divine intervention in your life like the experience of St. Paul the Apostle on the road to Damascus, you may be waiting in vain. In fact, you may be missing or completely misunderstanding God’s way of communication. God may be speaking, but it is you who do not hear!
When the people heard the crash of thunder and the flashes of lighting they “knew” that God was speaking to Moses.
But Moses—and Elijah—knew better.
Three special ways God speaks to us are through the created universe, the teachings of Jesus, and in the depths of our hearts.
The problem is not that God is not talking to us. The problem lies with us, that we are often deaf, dumb, and stupid—we don’t see, hear, sense, feel, taste, discern, understand, or comprehend.
Elijah in the depth of depression and despair, went into the desert to die—and yet he was summoned to stand before God on the mountain and hear his voice. At least he was not so far gone that he misconstrued the violence of nature as the voice of God. He listened for the light silent sound!
The sonnet of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, “How do I love thee?”, could also be a reflection about “How do I hear thee?”:
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
12 September 2021