Silent God

1 Kings 19:11-18

11 He said, "Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by." Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; 12 and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. 13 When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. Then there came a voice to him that said, "What are you doing here, Elijah?" 14 He answered, "I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away." 15 Then the Lord said to him, "Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus; when you arrive, you shall anoint Hazael as king over Aram. 16 Also you shall anoint Jehu son of Nimshi as king over Israel; and you shall anoint Elisha son of Shaphat of Abel-meholah as prophet in your place. 17 Whoever escapes from the sword of Hazael, Jehu shall kill; and whoever escapes from the sword of Jehu, Elisha shall kill. 18 Yet I will leave seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him."

            Silence. It’s uncomfortable. It makes us uneasy. There is tension in silence; it causes us to doubt what we’re experiencing, to question what’s going on. Everyday our lives are consumed by noise, engulfed in the cacophony of our existence, but when we find ourselves suddenly submerged in silence, well, we often aren’t sure of what to do. We can deal with the noise; we can thrive in the volume and rhythm of existence, but when everything is made quiet...it can be quite scary.   

            I remember in September of 1995, sitting in the dark in our living room with the front door open as the winds of hurricane Opal screamed outside. The thunder was incredible, and the sound of the rain hitting the house made me feel like I was down in the trenches and the enemy was firing on me from all sides. I was terribly afraid of thunderstorms as a kid, and hurricane Opal was by far the worst one I had ever experienced, but it wasn’t the ground-shaking thunder or the bright-as-day lightening that scared me the most…it was the silence that came with the eye of the storm. For, you see, it was in that silence that my mind had the opportunity to wrap around what had happened. It was in that silence that I realized that nothing was quite the same. It was in that silence that the uncertainty of what was coming with the other side of the storm struck me, and it scared me more than any lightening or thunder ever could. Silence can be frightening because it can mean we are experiencing a certain level of uncertainty.

            If the silence in the eye of a hurricane can cause an eleven year old boy in south Alabama such frightening stress, imagine the fearful stress Elijah must have felt in that cave on the side of Mt. Horeb. Elijah is already on the run—running for his life from Queen Jezebel after upstaging some 450 of her prophets on Mt. Carmel and ending a drought that had the country in crisis mode. She put out the hit on Elijah, and upon hearing the news, Elijah fled for his life. In the midst of his flight, he received a word from the Lord in the first part of verse 11 of our text today: "Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by." Now, this news is just as frightening as the news concerning Jezebel’s bounty for Elijah. To be summoned to the mountain of God, to witness the Lord pass by, this is a big deal. Human beings don’t exactly get summoned to stand in the presence of God so they can receive a gold star or a holy pat on the back. If Elijah was going to stand on God’s mountain as God passed by, he knew the meeting wasn’t going to be pleasant.

            I suppose popular culture and our own imaginations have led us to some quaint picture of meeting God in a lovely, well-lit place, where God appears to us as a soft-spoken and lovely being who only brings us hope-filled news and tidings of prosperity. The Bible, however, seems to paint a much different picture, as many people in Scripture meet with the Lord and are immediately frightened by the mere presence of the angel who bears God message. Elijah shared this understanding about God; he believed that whoever saw God, stood in God’s presence, would surely die. And now God has called Elijah to come out and stand on the mountain as God passes by—Elijah must have been terribly frightened, yet he did as the Lord commanded.

            Elijah found himself standing on the side of Horeb, expecting God to show up in all of his majesty and glory, when the Bible tells us in the rest of verse 11 and the beginning of verse 12: “Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire…” Can you imagine the yo-yo of emotions Elijah must have felt? There he was, waiting for the Lord—the almighty creator of the universe—to pass by, when there was a great, mountain-splitting wind. Surely Elijah thought this wind was the coming of God’s presence. Surely Elijah must have been preparing himself for the arrival of God on the tail of such a great wind, yet we’re told, “the Lord was not in the wind.” Perhaps Elijah was a bit relieved, or maybe he was put even more on edge. Whatever the case, after that great wind came another, frightening sign—an earthquake.

            Earthquakes are terrifying. They can change the very landscape, and in the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, an earthquake can leave people picking up the pieces even two years later. After the great wind that broke mountains and rocks in its path, Elijah, standing in a mountain cave, is shaken by an earthquake, and before we have a chance to even ask, the text tells us, “but the Lord was not in the earthquake.” As the rumble of shifting rocks and the cracking of the earth settled beneath his feet, Elijah heard another sound—the sizzle of heat, for after the earthquake we’re told in verse 12: “after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.”

            I can imagine Elijah would have been terrified yet confused by this fire that followed the earthquake. He’s witnessed three signs that accompany a theophany—an appearance by God. Surely he must have thought the fire was going to be it. After all, God appeared to Moses in a bush that blazed with fire; he led the Israelites through the wilderness with a pillar of fire at night. Surely this fire would contain the presence of the Lord, but we get even less time, fewer words to digest what has happened when we’re told—yet again—that the Lord was not in the fire. These three signs—a great wind, an earthquake, fire—surely should have signaled the arrival of the Almighty God, but they don’t. Instead, Elijah is left with what follows the fire: “after the fire a sound of sheer silence.”

Silence—after all that build-up, after all that creative drama, there was only a sound of sheer silence. The language implies that it was the kind of silence one can feel. It was the kind of silence that can be deafening, the kind of silence that comes in the eye of a hurricane, the kind of silence we experience when even the background hum of electricity is quieted, a silence that can be felt. Elijah had gone up to meet the Almighty God, the God of creation and deliverance, yet he was left with a silent God. Verse 13 tells us, “When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.”

I can’t help but wonder what must have been going through Elijah’s mind when he heard that silence, when he wrapped himself in his mantle and stood looking out of that cave on Mt. Horeb. Did he think that God had left him? Had God passed by and he missed it? Did he begin to doubt that God had even called him there in the first place? Silence does that to us, you know? In those rare moments of silence we experience in our lives our minds can race out of control, conjuring up all sorts of thoughts and theories. We can find ourselves doubting everything when we are left in the silence too long. Think of all the times we cry out to God, and yet God is silent. Can you remember looking up towards the heavens hoping for some kind of answer, begging for some kind of sign, only to be answered in your petitions to the Almighty with silence? I wonder if that is how Elijah felt. I wonder if he stood there in the wake of the wind, the earthquake, and the fire, in the midst of that sheer silence, and began to wonder if God was really even there. But then, a voice breaks the silence in verse 13 when the Lord speaks to Elijah: "What are you doing here, Elijah?"

The silent God suddenly speaks to Elijah, and in the verses that follow, God instructs Elijah on what he is to do next. It’s only in the wake of that sheer silence that Elijah hears the voice of God. It’s only after the silence and the opportunity for fear and doubt that God gives Elijah his calling. It’s after the silence from God that the prophet goes out to meet the Almighty. God wasn’t in the great wind. God wasn’t in the power of the earthquake. God wasn’t in the burning heat of the fire. God wasn’t in any of the signs Elijah expected. No, Elijah only met God after the silence. Elijah encountered there on Mt. Horeb the silent God, the God who doesn’t solely seek our attention in the grandness of inexplicable signs, the God who doesn’t seek to compete with the orchestra of this world blaring in our ears and down in our souls. Elijah encountered the silent God on Mt. Horeb, because more often than we realize God speaks to us through the silence.

But silence is uncomfortable. It makes us uneasy. There is tension in silence. To be surrounded by silence means we’re losing money, we’re losing work, or worse even still—we’re losing time. We are immersed in world of noise, surrounded by the sounds and din of distraction that keeps our minds and our hearts from God and from one another. Perhaps in our fear and uncertainty of silence we miss out on hearing the voice of God. Perhaps in our desire to be constantly moving, always busy, we fail to hear the silent God calling us to his work. Let us learn from the story of Elijah to listen for the voice of God in the silence. May we seek to quiet the ruckus in our lives that distract us from God and call us away from loving our neighbors. Let us quiet our hearts and listen for the voice of the silent God as he speaks to us…even in the sound of sheer silence.

Let us pray…