The echoes of silence

"Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm;
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm!"
Dear Lord and Father of Mankind (John G. Whit­ti­er)

Recently I have been thinking a lot about Sabbath and about rest. I am slowly coming to a realisation that I am approaching it the wrong way. Or rather that I am expecting the wrong thing. I find myself going into a period of retreat by offering it to God and asking him to meet me in it. I usually enjoy the time immensely but emerge the other end feeling faintly disappointed that God has not met me. It is as if I expect some blinding new revelation or a magical transformation of my circumstances. When this does not materialise I feel as if God failed to show up - or perhaps I failed to notice him.

What I do find, however, is that in subsequent days I am more aware of God's presence. Of his grace in my daily life. Of empowering and equipping to do the things I need to do. I have always faintly objected to the last line of the hymn 'Dear Lord and Father', because in Elijah's case it was not until the earthquake, wind and fire had abated that God spoke. In the stillness after. But perhaps the hymn writer is right after all. Because it was in the power of the silent voice that Elijah went on to do the difficult things God asked of him. As if in some way the silence was woven into the fabric of his soul, so he could carry it with him into the turmoil of daily living.