students of jesus

I keep a dreadful secret from my friends at church. You see, where I worship, if you think the music’s too loud, you are definitely too old. The drugged-out neighbors near our building call the police to complain about the noise. The Kentucky Academy of Pediatrics has labeled our church the number one threat to children’s hearing in the state. Baby Boomers bring earplugs to church. All the guitar amps go to 11.

But deep in the recesses of my iPhone, where no one can see my music collection, I have a playlist of gentle music. At my desk, I put in the ear buds and secretly dial it down. Because God lives in the still small sounds, too.

We’ve manufactured noise to a breathtaking level. One reason pipe organs and symphony orchestras were the rage during Bach and Mozart’s day was no one had ever heard such sound before—sound so full that patrons' hearts would burst at the fullness. Now, in the 21^st century Bach, the Beatles, and Beyoncé all live inside my ear-buds.

Even more radical: sometimes I like no sound at all. 
Laptops, iPhones, iPads, and Satellite TV are just fine. But their use comes with a price. The price is silence, and in the silence God is speaking: “The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." (Zephaniah 3: 17) Can you imagine? Peace, quietness, confidence, and the chance to hear God Himself singing over you. Have you ever heard His song?

I used to think the silence meant God wasn’t speaking. Now, in the silence, he’s all I hear.
 As a young man I would look to the stars, overwhelmed by the beauty of the night sky. I knew from Psalm 19 that the heavens declared the glory of God. I could see his greatness, but could not hear his voice. Even in their majesty I would wonder why God was so silent. My prayers, especially at night, were filled with requests and concerns. I would list my needs one by one, unaware that my greatest need was stillness.

Of the many needs of North American believers, silence is among the greatest. Silence is the blank page on which God writes his word. Our noisy world scribbles on the page continually, overlaying sound and word on top of word and sound until the page becomes black. Unless the page is clean we cannot read what God has written.

The pathway of modern life has been hardened, trampled by words. Back in the day you had to visit Times Square; now Times Square visits you. The sower sows the seed but it falls on the path and is carried away by Sports Center, YouTube, NPR, Fox News, and of course our ubiquitous ear buds. Quiet is an aberration Drop any comedian into a monastery and he’ll have the monks doing hip-hop before it’s over. Even our Bibles are cluttered with sidebars and graphics, pictures and celebrity interpretations—Bible apps will read to us out loud.

But what if God is in the silence? He wasn’t in the whirlwind or earthquake for Elijah. The “still, small voice” is still a whisper. Perhaps the Father has his reasons for not raising is voice. I suspect it’s for our good that we find him in the secret place, well away from Times Square.

Why not create a secret place each day and give him just three minutes of blank slate? The Father doesn’t need a podcast to reach our hearts. If we find his presence in the silence it will be enough.

By the way, I’ve noticed that for many North American believers total silence may be too radical for starters. So if you promise to keep my secret from my loud church friends, I’d like to recommend quiet music for quiet times:

§ Chant, The Benedictine Monks of Santo Domingo de Silos. These guys have been rockin’ it old-school for 1500 hundred years.

§ Chants of the Russian Orthodox Church. Still quiet music, until the chimes and bells go nuts. These guys get a little rowdy—the Benedictines to the south think of this music as punk.

§ Love Came Down, Brian Johnson. A thousand years and a ten thousand miles from the monks comes an album from the Jesus Culture rockers. Don’t even call it unplugged. It’s sweet and gentle, and a pathway to His presence

For today, I’ll whisper the benediction: “Grace to you, and peace.”

Back in the days when DJ’s were still on the radio and spun vinyl 45’s, I turned up the volume in my car—loud.

When one teenager tells another to turn the radio down, you know it’s loud. My best friend tried to get the point across: “Ray, if you can hear the static from the needle in the groove, it’s too loud.” These days, ear buds do the trick: I still get the volume I crave. When it comes to music I still believe the 60’s mantra, if it’s too loud you’re too old.

This was my attitude about following Jesus, too. Crank it up, Lord. Gimme all you got. Christianity was for in-your-face linebackers. Thumpin’ bass or heavy metal, there was no question about the mission. I loved power verses and no-questions-asked Holy Ghost direction. In short, I may have been born again, but I was a child of my times as well.

Every advertiser in America screams for our attention. TV commercials boost the volume; our cars have become half transportation, half nightclub—and we like it that way. We wake up to music and go to sleep with Jimmy Fallon and The Roots. If something’s important, we roll it out with flash and dazzle. Every announcement is accompanied by shouting. It’s the way of our world.

There is, however, another world, where the greatest news is whispered. The Kingdom of God speaks the language of the still small voice. Deep joy is in the quiet. The heavens may declare the glory of God, but they never make a sound. As his Kingdom is worked into me, I discover the true music is in the rests, not the downbeat.

There was a time when the silence meant God wasn’t speaking. Now, in the quiet, he’s all I hear. Elijah was the prophet of shock and awe, but perhaps it was a way to ignore his own depression. Eventually his fears drove him into seclusion. There he discovered the presence of God not in fire, nor earthquake, nor the whirling of the wind. He heard the whisper of God. It strengthened him and nudged him forward.

Stillness and peace are signs of the Spirit’s presence. For every Pentecost there are fifty days in the prayer closet. The prayer closet is not meant to be a place to hide from the world, but a place where we hide the world from ourselves. An anchorman once asked Mother Teresa what she said during prayer. She answered, “I listen.” The interviewer followed-up, “Well then, what does God say?” Mother Teresa smiled. “He listens.”

It turns out the Father is a pretty good listener. “You know me when I sit and when I rise,” said David. “You perceive my thoughts from afar.” Imagine the mutual quiet. Imagine the joy unspeakable.

My friend Heather Kraus observed, “Jesus’ promise of ‘I will give you rest’ is not the same as ‘I will give you answers.” I suspect some of his best answers do not come with words. My friend Adam Russell says, "Any fool can hear it when God shouts, only the lover can hear him whisper."

Waiting on God is not passive, it’s the mark of an active soul alive to the ways of God. Isaiah tried to slow people down in his day:

In repentance and rest you will be saved,
In quietness and trust is your strength.

But his gentleness was lost on a noisy people:

But you were not willing,
And you said, “No, for we will flee on horses,”
Therefore you shall flee!
“And we will ride on swift horses,” (Isaiah 30:15-16)

In Isaiah’s day the movers and shakers took the bull by the horns until the bull ran them over. Even vigorous young men stumble and fall. Strength is overrated. Stillness is missed altogether. But those who power down, log out, and disconnect will renew their strength.

I keep a dreadful secret from my friends at church. You see, where I worship, if you think the music’s too loud, you are definitely too old. The drugged-out neighbors near our building call the police to complain about the volume. The Kentucky Academy of Pediatrics has labeled the Vineyard the number one threat to children’s hearing in the state. Baby Boomers bring ear plugs to church. All the guitar amps go to 11.

But deep in the recesses of my iPhone, where no one can see my music collection, I have a playlist of gentle music. At my desk, I put in the ear buds and secretly dial it down. The fools--they think I'm still rocking it out! But God lives in the still small sounds, too.

So if you promise not to let this get back to the hometown gang, I’d like to recommend quiet music for quiet times:

• Chant, The Benedictine Monks of Santo Domingo de Silos.  These guys have been rockin’ it old-school for 1500 hundred years. Careful--people might mistake you for a closet Catholic.
• Chants of the Russian Orthodox Church. Still quiet music, until the chimes and bells go nuts. These guys get a little rowdy--the Benedictines to the south think of this music as punk.
• Love Came Down, Brian Johnson. A thousand years and a ten thousand miles from the monks comes an album from the Jesus Culture rockers. Don’t even call it unplugged. It’s sweet and gentle, and a pathway to His presence

Perhaps my opinion today is not for everyone. On Saturdays I recommend books, movies, even porches. In my opinion everyone oughta dial it dial down from time to time.