By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
The man named Job spent a great deal of time observing God through His handiwork and had some interesting things to say about the Creator.
In chapter 26 of his ancient book, we find one of Job’s lists of God’s amazing deeds and attributes (vs 6-13) followed by Job’s understandable awe:
“These are the mere edges of His ways,
and how small a whisper we hear of Him!
But the thunder of His power, who can understand?”
The “edges of His ways” suggests that we see just the fringe of what God can do. When we marvel over a beautiful sunrise, how much greater a spectacle can He produce?
When we read of the spectrum between His whisper and the “thunder of His power,” we catch a glimpse of strength under control. Might that is managed. Greatness that is gentle.
I’m glad God whispers. What if He spoke to us by the “thunder of His power”?
The prophet Elijah (I Kings 19:9-18) experienced that thunder in crushing wind, a frightful earthquake, and consuming fire. But then came the whisper – a sound he could approach – and he knew it was God.
So why so you suppose God merely whispers to us? Could it be because He is that close?
God wants us to approach Him, so He whispers. That whisper requires that we turn off the noise. Stop talking, fine-tune our hearing, and listen for His voice.
Maybe we’ll hear it in the next sunrise. Or in the falling snow, or in a sleeping baby’s sigh.
Thank God for His intimacy. He knows us, He hears us. He is that close.
So close that if we wait, we might feel His breath on our hair and His whisper in our heart.
~How small a whisper. Click To Tweet
“Oh, God.” Her voice squeezed up and floated out to the countless stars. “Oh, God, help me. I’ve deceived others and myself as well.”
A light breeze brushed against her, and with it came the aroma of someone’s supper—evidence of home and family and togetherness. All the things she longed for that seemed as far from her reach as the sparkling Dipper.
Slowly, another essence whispered through the cupola. Nearly unnoticeable at first, it grew with soothing warmth, washing over her bare soul, her past mistakes.
Come, Thou fount…
Not her mother’s voice this time, but her own—small and thin and bleeding. “Oh, to grace how great a debtor, daily I’m constrained to be.”
The words came with new meaning, not just words to a song, but words for her life. Unexpected and full of peace.
“Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it. Mount of Thy redeeming love.” ~An Unexpected Redemption Winner of the American Fiction Awards
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