“The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”
Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the 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 came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.”
- 1 Kings 19:11-12 NIV
I’ve noticed something about my human.
Most mornings start the same. Before the sun stretches over the trees, he settles into that old chair on the porch with a cup of coffee in one hand and a well-worn Bible in the other. I usually curl up nearby. Sometimes I keep one eye open in case the cat next door forgets whose yard this is. It’s part of my job, I guess.
I’ve seen storms roll across the sky.
Heard thunder rattle the windows.
Watched wind bend the pines until they almost bow.
I’ve seen lightning split the darkness and heard branches crack like old bones.
Those things always get my attention.
And I’ll admit, I bark at most of them.
Life can feel that way too.
Loud.
Busy.
Full of things demanding to be noticed.
But my human doesn’t seem to be looking for God in the noise.
He keeps reading.
He keeps praying.
He keeps listening.
One morning, he softly read about Elijah.
There was a mighty wind… but God wasn’t in the wind.
Then an earthquake… but God wasn’t there either.
After that came the fire… still not there.
Finally, there was a gentle whisper.
I tilted my head.
Dogs do that when we’re trying to understand something important.
Maybe that’s why my human treasures these quiet mornings so much.
The world is always ready to shout, but God often chooses to whisper.
If we’re constantly chasing the next loud thing, we’ll miss the gentle voice that calms the heart, corrects our path, and reminds us we’re never alone.
I’ve learned that when my human quietly says my name, I don’t have to wonder if it’s him.
I know his voice because I’ve spent time with him.
I can hear it and pick it out regardless of distraction or the size of any crowd…
Maybe that’s how it is with Jesus.
The more time we spend with Him, the easier it becomes to recognize His voice—not because it’s the loudest, but because it’s the One we’ve learned to hear and love.
So tomorrow morning, before the day’s barking begins, find a quiet place.
Open His Word.
Silence the noise.
Sit still.
Listen.
You may discover what this old dog is slowly learning…
Sometimes the greatest things God says are spoken in the quiet.
Prayer: Lord, quiet the noise around me and within me. Teach me to recognize Your voice above every distraction. Help me slow down, open Your Word, and listen with a willing heart. May I grow so familiar with Your gentle whisper that I gladly follow wherever You lead. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Keep the Faith… Carpe Diem
