It’s always loud at my house. Even louder than usual lately since we’ve all been living on top of each other with hardly a break. My children don’t really have volume control, so the noise is pretty much up to 11, all the time.
The noise of the world is loud, spreading its fear and chaos. My creative soul yearns to pour myself into beauty rather than destruction, to uplift rather than tear down. But my own inner voice is drowned out by the many things, people, and ideas vying for my attention and care.
How dare I write fiction when people are dying? How arrogant is it to pursue beauty and art for its own sake when the world is on fire?
Sometimes I feel like I have to be louder. But I can’t even begin to compete with the cacophony.
But then I remember that the wisdom of this world is not the way God does things.
When Elijah fled from Ahab, he was alone, he was afraid. He thought he had nothing to live for. He begged God to speak to him. He encountered a great wind, an earthquake, and a fire but God didn’t speak to him from any of those. It was in the silence after all the chaos that God spoke.
Our world is caught in a whirlwind of opinions. We have been shaken by pandemic and our nation set on fire with racial and political conflict. But I keep looking for the voice of God, not in those things, but between them.
In the lulls and voids between the headlines and the latest breaking stories. In the daily human interactions and the moments of hope.
I cannot compete with a volume of the world. News and social media fill our eyes and ears. My small voice won’t be heard even if I scream. I could try to scream louder, get more people to scream with me.
Or I can pursue the silence. I can retreat from the noise and listen for the still small voice. Then when the world has yelled itself hoarse, I can quietly share those words.
Yes, the world is so loud and trying to shout above it is never going to work. There is peace in focussing on that still, small voice.
“I cannot compete with a volume of the world.” A lovely utterance of truth. Thank God we are not asked to do so. We are only to be silent when God tells us to be silent, and to speak when He tells us to speak.
Amie, FMF #14
I love that God wants to engage with us in the intimacy of a whisper, inviting us to draw near and hear the still small voice – lets pursue the silence! fmf#8
I’m so thankful the Lord still says, “Peace, be still.”
We need that in the midst of the noise!
Yeah, we’re in the whirlwind
and volume’s cranked to ten.
Somewhere back there we have sinned
and in Barb’s truck’s a Sten.
But God has seen this all before,
and though the blood runs wild,
He has not shut Heaven’s door,
and still His voice is mild.
He calls on us to see His face,
not turn away in shame,
and our brothers to embrace;
even thugs have names.
The cross still stands, though nation’s riven,
reminder that we are forvigen.
A Sten is a WW2 British submachine gun (the one that looks like it was designed by a plumber, a tube with a magazine sticking out the side); Barb’s is legally converted to semiautomatic fire only.
Yes!
I love your last sentence. For sure that’s the better choice.
I definitely cannot compete with the world’s noise either – but I don’t really want to. I need to embrace the silence – good words for today! Thanks!