I adore long car rides. I especially love when the car is quiet and the landscape spreads before you like a peacock showing off his feathers. That’s what the road to Alba Iulia reminds me of, rocks and mountains and lakes and skies stretching to the limits of worldly beauty in order to display the glory of the Lord’s creation. The mountains rose around us, their faces brushed golden by fading sunlight. We crossed a lake created by a concrete, heavily-graffitied dam, and watched as the sunset stained the surface orange and royal blue, occasionally disrupted by a flock of geese frolicking in the shallows. Raul, our host, is driving us to his hometown, which lies at the other end of a six-hour tour through the mountains of Romania. He jerks the stick-shift forward and backward as my mind wanders to the scripture I had been studying recently.
1 Kings 19:9-15 (Elijah the prophet is fleeing death at the hands of Jezebel. He hides among the caves at Mount Horeb, the mountain of God.)
And the word of the Lord came to him: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” He replied, “I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too. 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. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” He replied, “I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.” The Lord said to him, “Go back the way you came, and go to the Desert of Damascus. When you get there, anoint Hazael king over Aram. Also, anoint Jehu son of Nimshi king over Israel, and anoint Elisha son of Shaphat from Abel Meholah to succeed you as prophet. Jehu will put to death any who escape the sword of Hazael, and Elisha will put to death any who escape the sword of Jehu. Yet I reserve seven thousand in Israel—all whose knees have not bowed down to Baal and whose mouths have not kissed him.”
Daily we are overwhelmed by representations of God’s glory. The mountains we were driving through, for example. Creation cannot resist the urge to worship its Maker, and we are the awed recipients of nature’s affection. God is powerful and mighty, the Scriptures are full of Him coming dark clouds, riding on the winds, and stretching His immense arm over peoples and nations in righteous judgement. He has parted seas, struck down armies, set cities ablaze. Yet He still chooses to reveal Himself to us, He still chooses to comfort us when we are overwhelmed. Romania is a difficult place to live. Sometimes it seems as if our squad is alone in a city of non-believers. We have seen the Lord’s power, but there are days that we need reminders of the God we worship. Sometimes it seems that there are winds that sear our skin and topple our arrogance, it seems that there are earthquakes that shake the foundations of our faith, and fires that choke our words in our throats. But the Lord, though He sends those things to test us, is not in them. He is in the still, small voice, that gentle whisper that says, “Comfort, comfort, my people,”(Isaiah 40:1) and “Be still, and know that I am God,” (Psalm 46:10).
So fall to your knees, people of God. This is the Lord we worship, who has called us onto the rock surrounded by crumbling mountains and violent winds. This is the God whose whisper is heard above the searing pain, whose whisper the entirety of creation submits to. This is the God who tells us not to fear, though the earth gives way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. (Psalm 46:2-3) When anxiety is great within us, His consolation brings us joy. (Psalm 94:19) This is the God who has reserved people in Craiova whose knees have not bent to idols. Even though we walk through the darkest valley, He is with us, choosing to dwell among us in our suffering, choosing to whisper in our ear gently rather than to scare us into terrified submission. Let us listen to the whisper today, people of God.
