Listen
And the LORD said, “Go out and stand on the mount before the LORD.” And behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke 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 the sound of a low whisper. And when Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And behold, there came a voice to him and said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (1 Kings 19:11–13. ESV)
Like many of us today, Elijah is afraid and angry. He is jealous for the LORD and afraid for his life. And the thing he needs to do most is listen.
If ever there were a time in my 66 years where I thought the word “listen” was more needed, I can’t think of it. People on both sides of our political divide are so busy shouting that they can’t hear a word that the other side is saying. And frankly, it doesn’t seem they want to. And the trouble with not listening is that you don’t get anywhere. God is speaking to us all the time, encouraging us, challenging us, consoling us, leading us, but we rarely hear Him.
It has been my experience that His word to me is frequently given voice by the person with whom I least agree. It is difficult, even painful sometimes to listen to someone who is yelling at me, or who is saying words that are so disturbing to me that they make me cringe away. And yet, if I will be still, stand in the face of the fire and the earthquake, confident that God is here too, and is trying to tell me something new, I will begin to hear that “still small voice” that leads me from confrontation to community. This voice humbles me, causes me to want to do what Elijah did, cover my face at the sheer holiness of the whisper, but I can’t hide from it, and God uses it to bring something new into being in me and between me and the one to whom I’m struggling to listen.
There is one thing I’m certain of. Every beating heart that I hear shouting in the public square is motivated by something I can understand if I just listen long enough. I may not want to hear it because it will awaken compassion in me for the other that I’d rather not have, but once i hear it new solutions begin to blossom. Deserts become meadows when the rain of God’s word, hidden in the voice of another rains down on our interactions.
I am not called to make someone else listen. I am called to listen. I don’t always, or even often, like it, but that’s my calling. And to hear the heart of another, and the heart of the Father beating along side it. I will have to endure the fire, the rage, the earthquake of words that split rocks and may even shatter my own heart, but if I persist and continue to listen, the voice that I long to hear will be there, and life will bloom anew.
