I am sitting on my back porch listening to the world wake up.
The cicadas sing ceaselessly. (Did they even go to bed? Do they ever take a breath?)
They’re joined by various birds, whose calls I recognize (but since I was a Cub Scouts drop-out, please don’t ask me to match each species with its signature sound). The one exception is the blue jay. I can’t see it, but I’d know that call anywhere. A chiding, angry shriek—sort of like an irritated mom of twin toddlers in the check-out line at Super One.
A squirrel chatters, then scurries up a pine tree. A neighbor’s dog barks. I hear traffic on I-20, a half mile away. Five miles above me a jet roars past.
It’s amazing what you hear when you stop and pay attention.
A.W. Tozer said something once that I’ve never been able to forget. He said, “God is by His nature continuously articulate. He fills the world with His speaking voice.”
If that’s true—and I trust that it is—what’s God saying this morning? To me? To you? And why is it so hard so often to hear His voice?
I have a plaque hanging above my desk. It’s a quote attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson. It reads: “Let us be silent that we may hear the whisper of God.”
That’s a good reminder. Underneath all these other sounds–made by bugs and animals and machines–there’s another sound: a faint, divine whisper.
Do I hear it? Are you paying attention?
“He who has ears to hear, let him hear.”