Do You Hear Him?

Read

1 Kings 19:11–12 "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.”

Think

We don’t always know how to listen anymore. We scroll. We stream. We fill every pause with noise—music, podcasts, conversation, commentary. Silence feels awkward. Unproductive. Like something’s wrong. But maybe the silence isn’t the problem. Maybe it’s the invitation.

Elijah found that out the hard way. He had just experienced one of the boldest miracles in all of Scripture—fire from heaven, enemies defeated, God’s power on full display. But not even that moment could shield him from fear. A threat from Queen Jezebel sends him spiraling into anxiety and isolation. He runs to the wilderness. Then, he runs further. Finally, exhausted and hollow, he collapses in a cave.

God tells him to step out. To wait for his presence. And then comes the wind. The earthquake. The fire. All the ways God could show up. All the ways we want him to show up—loud, obvious, overwhelming. But God wasn’t in any of it.

Then, a whisper. Not with force. Not with spectacle. Just a gentle nudge of nearness. And that’s the moment Elijah covers his face. Because he knows. God is here.

It wasn’t a performance Elijah needed. It was presence. We often say we want to hear from God—but what we really want is clarity on demand. Quick answers. Divine fireworks. But listening to God isn’t transactional. It’s relational. It’s less about decoding a message and more about learning the cadence of his voice. And that takes time. Stillness. Repetition.

Think about it: how do you recognize someone’s voice in a crowded room? You don’t need to see their face. You just know it. Because you’ve heard it enough. You’ve been close enough. That’s what God wants for us. Not spiritual soundbites. Not one-off directions. But closeness that produces recognition. A relationship that turns the whisper into something unmistakable.

The hard truth? You probably won’t hear him until you slow down, stop demanding volume, and start paying attention to what he’s already saying—through his Word, through conviction, and through moments that feel small but stick with you. God doesn’t compete for attention. He waits for yours. So if you’re tired of the noise, maybe the whisper isn’t just softer—it’s better. Maybe it’s what your soul’s been craving all along.

Apply

Pick a moment today when you’d normally reach for your phone—waiting in line, sitting in traffic, winding down before bed. Instead, pause. Don’t scroll. Don’t fill the space. Just breathe and invite God into it: “God, I’m listening.” You don’t need a journal, a candle, or a perfect setting. Just a willing heart.

Afterward, take note—did anything stir? A thought? A nudge? A name that came to mind? That might just be the whisper. Don’t overanalyze it. Just acknowledge it. Let this be the beginning of learning to recognize God in the ordinary.

Pray

God, I confess—I often look for you in the loud. But you’re not limited to noise or drama. Teach me to quiet my heart. To create space where your voice can be heard. Help me become someone who doesn’t just talk to you, but listens for you. In Jesus’ name. Amen.