“A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains

and crushing rocks before the LORD—

but the LORD was not in the wind. 

After the wind there was an earthquake—

but the LORD was not in the earthquake. 

After the earthquake there was fire—

but the LORD was not in the fire. 

After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound. 

When he heard this,

Elijah hid his face in his cloak

and went and stood at the entrance of the cave.”

My heart resonates with the grand, majestic, and transcendent. When the Thunderbirds flew over at my graduation, engines roaring, my pulse quickened. The booming fireworks at Thunder Over Louisville take my breath away. The miles I can see from the top of a mountain stun my senses and enrapture my spirit. Journeying through the excavations from two thousand years ago beneath St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome to see the likely remains of St. Peter, himself, inspire my faith. I am naturally inclined to seek the extraordinary. Those powerful and memorable moments are important experiences, but they have not been the most profound in my life. 

In my first “real” confession, where I was completely honest with God and the priest (and, maybe, myself) for the first time, I encountered the depths of God’s mercy. Alone in my dad’s Bronco following a Bible study, I encountered the wideness of God’s freedom. Walking in a mountain field beneath the moon and stars on a cold Colorado night, I encountered the intimacy of the Holy Spirit. Fighting with God as I prayed before the Blessed Sacrament in seminary, I encountered the mystery of God’s providence. Finding a flower blooming at the foot of a crucifix affixed to a tree as I stood among the pines, I surrendered to God’s will. These were all quiet times. Unnoticeable to all but the attentive, they made no loud statement or observable wake. Yet, these were moments that changed my life. These, and many more like them, were the moments when the whispering voice of God, the voice of love deep within, spoke to my heart in silence. 

God may be in all things, but we need more quiet times. So much of our world is filled with noise that draws our attention, we need more silence. Saint Teresa of Calcutta wrote, “We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature-trees, flowers, grass-grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence...We need silence to be able to touch souls.” It is in the quiet that we hear the whispering voice. It is in the depths of our hearts that God speaks. The noise grabs our attention easily, but silence is harder to find. It can also be terrifying. Alone before the vast ocean of darkness and nothing (no flashing lights or blaring sound) is scary. It’s uncomfortable. What if God doesn’t speak? It’s a frightening thought! What if He does? That may be more frightening, still. At the whispering sound, Elijah hid his face in his cloak. In today’s Gospel, as Jesus walked across the sea toward them, the disciples were terrified. They cried out in fear. 

Jesus speaks to their fear and to ours, “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.” Take courage and have faith. Trust the God who is love to push out into the deep waters of silence. God is the friend of silence and He is the lover of our souls. His voice of love is deep within. God speaks in whispers. Dare to listen.