Most of the time when I work, I wear earphones. You know, the little squishy ones that go inside your ear. Since I often run loud power equipment, the earbuds serve a dual purpose: block out sound AND deliver music (or whatever else is loaded on my iPod). I don’t hear the roar of the mower, or buzz of the chainsaw...all of my equipment seems to be silenced when my earphones are in. And then I get to listen to anything I choose. My style of music, at my volume...all day long.
Last week, I forgot to recharge my iPod, and the battery went dead, so I was without anything to block out the noise. Thankfully, I was only doing “quiet” yard work that day, so having music wasn’t an absolute necessity. I began to weed some planting beds on an area of campus that is surrounded by woods. If felt a little strange without my music. More accurately, it sounded strange without my manufactured noise. Still. Quiet.
I was going about my business, weeding like a pro, when I heard a noise. It was loud, coming from the woods. I startled, and looked to see what could be causing such a commotion. If I were to guess, it were a deer, or maybe a whole herd of deer, running across the leaf-covered forest floor. I immediately went from my hands and knees to only my knees. I looked, but saw nothing. The noise got louder. I stood up. If the volume of noise was any indication of the level of aggression of the animal producing the noise, I may need to run away. My eyes strained, my vision blurred by the morning sun piercing through the newly budding trees. I felt a slight raise in my adrenaline level. I was scared that I was about to be charged by the biggest buck in the Northeast. I took a step toward the direction from which the noise was coming. There was a brief moment of quiet, and then again, a burst of activity.
And then, I saw it. It was not a deer, or a herd of deer, or a rhinoceros, or a 2-ton elephant. No, it was none of those things. It was, instead, a squirrel. A squirrel. Not even a big fat squirrel. He was a scrawny squirrel with only a partial tail. He was pathetic looking. But for a moment, because of the enormous noise he was creating, I thought he would’ve been able to take me in a bar fight.
I don’t know how many times I’ve heard the verse, “Be still, and know that I am God.” I always took most notice of the second command in this verse: Know that I am God. I thought that God was proud, and wanted me to notice his awesomeness. For the record, we should take notice of his awesomeness. He is God, after all. But the scrawny squirrel taught me a lesson about the first command of the verse: Be still.
In life, we rarely slow down. We put in our proverbial headphones and block out God’s voice. We listen to the media, to our peers, even to our pastors and other spiritual authorities. Because sometimes these seem more acceptable, less controversial than what we may hear from God. But we, I, need to remember to take out the headphones every now and then. Because when we remove the noise of the world, when we are still, then we can hear God’s voice. And even a tiny whisper can seem like a deafening roar. He’s the same God who caused Adam to live with just a breath, created woman from a single bone, spoke the Earth into existence with a single word. So with even a whisper, he can communicate great things to us. All we have to do is take out our headphones and be still.
