Be still, and know that I am God…” (Psalm 46:11). Jim awakens in the morning to the sound of the radio tuned to his favorite country-western music station. He rises and takes his shower and shaves to the sound of some of his favorite tunes. Toast and coffee are usually shared with his adoring wife as they chat happily about the day’s activities. On his way to work, Jim pops in a favorite CD. At his office he finds background music soothing, almost therapeutic in his line of work. His lunch is typically eaten in his office while catching the noon news. The evenings find Jim unwinding by sitting in front of the TV devouring three hours of sitcoms. The bedtime routine consists of reading the evening newspaper with his MP3 player the background. A reporter once asked “Mother Teresa” what she did when she prayed. Her answer was telling. “I listen,” she said. The interviewer goaded her a bit more by asking, “Well, what does God say to you?” She smiled and gently said, “I don’t expect you to understand what I am about to say, but He just listens.” I can’t speak for anybody else, but I think I know what she meant by that. We are so full of noise and clamor and activity and busyness that we have little time in our hurried schedules for any kind of spiritual reflection. How can we focus on the sublime when the echo of slime emanates in the form of hard rap from our children’s bedrooms? Who can relish in a sense of His presence when the only thing that seems present is the stuff we bombard ourselves with daily in order to keep from dealing with our own emotions by coming to grips with our inner selves? If God ever did choose to speak to some of us in a still, small voice, or nudge us by his Holy Spirit, we would be so sensually numb from the chaos that distracts us that we would hardly take notice. Simon & Garfunkle had a tune back in the 60’s titled “The Sound of Silence.” Having suffered from tinnitus most of my life, I can understand the need of some folks wanting some kind of background noise, almost any, in order to block out the noises that so easily annoy and distract them. If mild classical music playing keeps us from being distressed over traffic noises or the neighbors’ fights, perhaps it is a wise choice at times. Music playing on my stereo while I am reading or writing keeps me from hearing the high-pitched sirens that constantly ring in my ears. So music certainly has its place. Many today, however, suffer hearing loss from listening to music at high volumes for extended periods of time. A recent president had a 50% hearing loss attributed to his taste for loud rock music as a youth. What do we do in a world that constantly assaults us with myriad types of musical genres as well as outlandish noise that is marketed as genuine musical art forms? I never cease to be amazed at what modern society is able to accept as entertainment. Some of the most outlandish and bizarre visuals and sounds are pandered to a gullible consuming populace that seems to buy anything that promotes the latest fads and fashions. And we listen. Back to Mother Teresa and her explanation of prayer. I think I know what she means, only perhaps on a more human level. Remember when you were “in like” (as opposed to “in love”) with that charmer who sat across from you in the 8th grade? She/he had eyes that could mesmerize as well as hypnotize. On the phone you would sit and listen to each other breathe for as long as doting parents would allow. After ten minutes you might say, “Are you still there?” And your heart’s desire would answer, “Yeah, are you?” And you would smile and say, “Yeah, me, too.” Then the cycle would start all over again! One evening I was chatting … okay, I was breathing with Gemma Uberto, the freckle-faced darling with red hair who had captured my heart that month in 7th grade. Eddie Fisher had a number one song on the charts at the time called, “Oh My Pappa.” Gemma whispered seductively, “Steve?” “Yeah.” “Sing ‘Oh My Pappa’ for me, will ya?” “Sure, Gemma. If you want me to.” I was too in like to be self-conscious. After I finished my juvenile rendition Gemma said, “Gee, thanks. That was swell.” I coughed a blush in my childishness as we went back to listening to each other breathe again. When was the last time you breathed with God? When was the last time you did with your Creator what you were eager to do with your youthful sweetie pie? At what point do we so cease being in awe of the Almighty that we forget to rush into is holy presence with nothing more than to be with him and to listen to the divine silence of our sacred Creator? Is life so full of uproar that God in us is given a back seat to everything we can think of that will fill our minds and ears with diversions? Whatever happened to the sound of silence? If God ever touched us with his presence how would we ever know it? Is there such a thing as being too busy, too distracted, too surrounded by a cacophony of sound and fury that any spiritual sensitivity left in us would be unable to notice the nudge from the surpassing transcendence of God? Listen! Be still. The brook babbles. The ocean roars. The rain dances delightfully upon the canopy. The man-child cries in his crib. The whisper of God’s holy breath is upon the wind. Ears must not become mute to these sounds. The divine echoes of deity’s presence could thunder in our ears if we were not so distracted, so inwardly focused, so full of the intransigent tumult of a life so overflowing with the temporal and secular that we miss the significant, that which is genuinely consequential. The fleeting distractions of our daily routines are momentary at best. This is now and gone! Eternity is forever. Surely that thought alone ought to make all of us who are believers pause and give God his moment of prayerful silence. So what if you don’t know exactly what to say? He knows what you should say, even if you don’t say it (Matthew 6:8). But at least listen to God. Be still and let him know that you know he is there. --Steven Clark Goad
Posted on: Mon, 12 Jan 2015 08:40:43 +0000
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