elijah. a sermonette.

this past sunday, our 25+ group at church did the worship service. it was a really great experience to work with such an engaged group of people to plan a service, discovering so many gifts in each other. the service centred around the idea of simple living, which was also the topic of our video study last winter. david did the children's story, we had a small choir, sarah played the cello, three of us had short meditations, including me.

my "sermonette," as one of the church members called it is based on 1 kings 19:11-13, the story of elijah on the mountain top waiting for God.

¹¹And 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:

¹²And after the earthquake a fire; but the LORD was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.

¹³And it was so, when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle, and went out, and stood in the entering in of the cave.

here is what i said:

I am going to try a little experiment with all of you this morning. For 30 seconds, I want you all to be quiet and listen.

(30 seconds of silence.)

What did you hear? A car going by? Somebody sneezing? The wind blowing outside? The in and out of your own breath?

What were you thinking to yourself in the quiet? When will this finally be over? What am I going to make for lunch? This week is going to be so busy?

We don’t like being quiet. It makes us uncomfortable. It makes us antsy. It makes us fidget in our seats.

And yet...

“Silence is the first language of God; all else is a poor translation.” Thomas Merton, a monk, wrote these words almost one hundred years ago. I wonder what he would say today, when people seem to have difficulty having a conversation without being interrupted by a buzzing cell phone, when people think about their days in Facebook statuses or Twitter updates, when the Internet connects us to the entire world from our living room.

Is there any room for silence anymore?

I would say I have a pretty busy life. I am a full-time wife, full-time mum, and a full-time PhD student, which means that I can (and often do) spend every waking minute being busy. I have articles to read, meals to cook, friends to call, papers to write, cuddles to have, courses to teach, coffee to drink, meetings to attend, diapers to change, conferences to plan, toilets to clean, family to skype... I’m doing good things. I enjoy it. I feel as though I am doing good in the world.

And yet...

At this breakneck pace, God’s voice is drowned out by the earthquake of my busyness, by the storm of my commitments.

Like Elijah, I want God to use the big God voice. I expect God to use the big God voice. Because, I’m busy. And if God has something important to say, the big God voice would probably do the trick to get my attention.

But that kind of thinking misses the point. Of course, God can use the big God voice. God can effectively beat me over the head with whatever I am supposed to hear. But then something fundamental is missing—my willingness to listen.

Elijah waits up on that mountain top and expects God to come in the storm, because the wailing winds have to be God. But God isn’t in the storm. And then, after some more waiting, when the ground trembles and shakes from the earthquake, Elijah figures God has arrived. But God isn’t in the earthquake. And when the fire breaks out on the mountain top and the flames engulf all the little shrubs, burning bushes and small trees in a display of destruction, Elijah thinks God must be in the fire. But God isn’t in the fire.

At this point I would say that Elijah, although his expectations about how God will appear might be wrong, has something major going for him- he is listening. Other people, me maybe? would wait expectantly during the windstorm, but leave in annoyance after the earthquake, figuring that God probably wasn’t planning on showing up anyway. But Elijah waits. And Elijah listens. And that’s why, when the still, small voice whispers to him, he can hear it.

Are you listening?

What is the still, small voice God wants you to hear?

The sun setting over the water in Algonquin Park. God’s still, small voice is speaking. Listen. Can you hear it?

The warm hug of a friend when you need comfort. God’s still, small voice is speaking. Listen. Can you hear it?

The swelling of four part harmony on Sunday morning. God’s still, small voice is speaking. Listen. Can you hear it?

The sticky kiss of a loving child. God’s still, small voice is speaking. Listen. Can you hear it?

We must unstop our ears, and unstop our hearts, take a few steps back from the busyness and ask ourselves... what can I hear when I really, really listen?