One of favorite bible passage is 1 Kings 19 V 11-13, from the Catholic New American Bible / Revised Standard Version:

Verse 11: The Lord says, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord; the Lord will pass by.” A strong wind breaks the rocks, but the Lord is not in the wind. An earthquake follows, but the Lord is not in the earthquake.

Verse 12: A fire follows the earthquake, but the Lord is not in the fire. After the fire comes a tiny whispering sound (or light silent sound).

Verse 13: When Elijah hears it, he hides his face in his cloak, goes to the cave entrance, and hears a voice ask, “Why are you here, Elijah?”

I love this passage for many reasons:

God comes to us in ways we do not expect.

God does not always reveal himself through grand or powerful events.

I need to quiet myself before I can sense God’s presence.

And sometimes, God seems to have a sense of humor.

When I go out with my camera, I often look for the grandeur of nature, something powerful that will show others the glory of God. We can certainly see God’s power in towering mountains, crashing waves, raging storms, and even the destructive forces of nature. Yet I must remind myself to notice the small and quiet beauty around me. If I do not slow down, look carefully, and listen, I may miss it.

A cousin of mine once worked in research and design at a medical facility in Minnesota. He told me about a room insulated so completely that a person inside could hear their own heartbeat. This kind of room is called an anechoic chamber. It prevents sound waves from reflecting off the walls, eliminating nearly every echo.

That amazed me. While researching this reflection, I discovered that one of the quietest places in the world according to the Guinness Book of World Records is right here in my own back yard, the anechoic chamber at Orfield Laboratories in Minneapolis. Its walls, ceiling, and floor contain thick fiberglass wedges that absorb sound instead of allowing it to bounce around the room. The chamber also rests within layers of steel and concrete that help block outside noise and vibrations.

A person enters the chamber in darkness and sits down. With no outside light or sound, the brain and body begin to react. As the ears adjust to the silence, a person may hear their own heartbeat, breathing, and even blood pulsing through the body. Imagine being surrounded by that much silence!

But back to the Bible.

The original Hebrew makes this passage even more beautiful. The phrase commonly translated as “a still small voice” has also been translated as:

“a soft murmuring sound,”

“the sound of a thin silence,”

“a voice of gentle stillness,”

or “the sound of sheer silence.”

The ancient Greek translation emphasizes a soft, gentle breeze, using phrases such as:

“the sound of a gentle breeze”

or “the voice of a delicate wind.”

The Hebrew language feels almost poetic to me. Elijah recognizes God not in the powerful wind, earthquake, or fire, but in the quiet that follows.

In the sheer silence, God was present.

“The sheer silence.” Oh, my! Have I ever taken the time to listen for the sheer silence of God? I am afraid I still have much to learn about quieting myself and listening for him.

This reading was followed by Matthew 14:22–33, the story of Jesus walking on the water, and Peter trying his hand, or perhaps I should say his feet, at walking on the water too.

Jesus and the disciples traveled to the other side of the lake and then Jesus went up the mountain alone to pray. During the fourth watch of the night, the three hours before sunrise, Jesus walks across the water toward them.

I remember those fourth-watch hours well. When I worked nights at the hospital, the early morning hours often felt like the darkest, longest, and most difficult. Staying focused while charting or reading orders took extra effort.

Jesus knows my weaknesses, just as he knew Peter’s. Peter walked on the water as long as he kept his eyes on Jesus. But when he noticed the wind, the waves, and the chaos surrounding him, he began to sink.

I must admit, that sounds very familiar.

Like Peter, I sometimes focus so much on the storms around me that I lose sight of Jesus. Like Elijah, I sometimes look for God in the grand and dramatic moments while overlooking his quiet presence.

Perhaps both readings offer the same invitation: keep my eyes on Jesus, quiet my heart, and listen.

My Prayer for Learning to Listen

Dear Lord,

Help me become a better listener.

Teach me to pause, breathe, and be still.

Open my eyes to see the small ways
you make your presence known.

Open my ears to hear you
in the gentle breeze,
the tiny whisper,
and the sheer silence.

When storms surround me,
help me keep my eyes on you.

Thank you, Lord,
for always being present in my life.

Amen.