Words from WW Blog

^” Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.” upon (1 Corinthians 12:27)

A pastor friend of mine told me of a different kind of church growth that has been challenging his church. Most churches would be singing hallelujah at the addition of another 30-35 people joining with the other saints.

Sometimes, however, those who become a part of the body of Christ are more like church refugees. That is, there has been some kind of trauma that has found them treading the path toward the new church. They’re spiritually homeless looking for a place to rest their weary souls.

Our nation can attest to the challenges of masses of refugees descending upon us and trying to figure out how to deal with the influx? Churches are simply smaller versions of that, with the added element of being faith communities. Of course, our history as the church of Christ has its inception connected to a mass of people coming into it shortly after the Day of Pentecost, when 3,000 people became Christ followers and were baptized. That event must have been spectacular. The new church had to adjust in many ways. They didn’t plan on a financial campaign for a building addition (There was no building yet!) or going to two services, but rather how were the needs of all these new people, including a number of widows and their unique situations. going to be met? There was a heightened dependence upon the Holy Spirit (Another new element of their organization’s unique functioning.) to lead them, and to show them how this was going to be solved.

My pastor friend also quickly brought the Holy Spirit into our conversation. He is leaning on the Spirit, trusting the Spirit, and knows he can not navigate this sudden church growth without the Spirit.

You see, the church refugees that showed up in the community of faith he leads came from another congregation whose pastor announced one Sunday from the pulpit that there were some health issues going on and it would be his last Sunday. He was done, and with those words, the church was pretty much done as well.

How does a church welcome what is left of another congregation who are experiencing grief, confusion, anger, bitterness, and a loss of identity? How does an existing faith community minister to a group of believers who did not ask for their church to go through a sudden hospice experience? My pastor friend is wise enough to know that there may be more people sitting in worship on Sunday morning, but many of them feel like workers who have shown up for work on a Monday morning only to see a sign on the door saying their company has gone out of business. Suddenly, they are back to a beginning point. a job search, and the erasure of seniority. Those who were the key leaders of what was now have no influence, no power, and no say.

Unfortunately, the story is not unique. The pandemic necessitated that churches rethink how ministry is done, as opposed to how it has always been done. An incredible number of churches closed their doors, creating an enormous number of refugees. Truthfully, a number of churches were on life support before the pandemic. Covid-19 was the final factor that turned off the switch. Many of those from closed-churches have never gone back to church, any church. They’ve become displaced refugees who have found something else to take the place of the time commitment they had made to a faith community. The absence of in-person worship and ministry was too numbing for them. For others, they figured out that being a part of a church had been something they had felt obligated to do. In their mindset, closed doors freed them from the unwritten contract they had adhered to for so long.

Back to my friend’s church, he shared with me that his church is learning as they’re going. It’s resemblant of the reconfiguring of the first church in Jerusalem. The disciples (apostles) had been confronted with the problem of the widows of the Hellenistic Jews being neglected in the daily distribution of food. They pointed to the Hebraic Jews of the faith community as playing favorites. Some quick strategic planning by the apostles that put a care plan in place was enacted. It was one of those, “We’ve never done this before” moments that, I’m sure, was punctuated with mistakes and the asking for forgiveness, but things changed and the first church continued to grow.

My friend’s church has come to understand that it’s not about keeping people happy, but rather conveying in various ways that God loves the new spiritual refugees in their midst, and the church is committed to caring for them. Some will probably drift off to other places because the new place of faith is not like it used to be in their former place.

However, others will experience the heartwarming sensation of being accepted and loved no matter where they’ve come from.

 ^“Jonathan said, “Go in peace! The two of us have vowed friendship in God’s name, saying, ‘God will be the bond between me and you, and between my children and your children forever!’” (1 Samuel 20:42, The Message)

Carol and I recently took a road trip from our home in Colorado back to Michigan and Ohio. My sister and her family live at the southern-most tip of Ohio. My brother’s oldest son who resides in Maryland (and is finally a happy Baltimore Orioles fan) was also going to be visiting with his two children for one of the days we were there. So, it was a meaningful trip to see family.

But the other purpose of the trip was to see four old friends who have meant so much to me during my life. Two of those friends have had some serious health issues in recent times. Two of them had been middle school classmates of mine back in South Zanesville, Ohio, who I hadn’t seen since my family moved in 1969 to Ironton, Ohio. Facebook has allowed us to get back together, reestablish our bond of friendship, and reveal the health concerns that have become a dominant part of life.

Friendship is a blessed gift from God. It reinforces the relational longing that is a part of our created DNA. We were not created to go it alone. Some people may be more stoic, more reserved, but there is still a void within us that needs the nourishment of friendship.

In the Old Testament story of Jonathan and David, the reader senses the agony and sorrow that have become a part of the friendship of the two young men because of the jealousy of Jonathan’s father, King Saul. The two friends embrace and weep over the pain that has become a daily storm in their lives. They realize that things have changed and each of them by necessity is going their own way. 

When I embraced each of my midwestern friends after so many years apart, my soul ached for the various afflictions they’ve endured and are still experiencing. They are dear brothers who have found a residence within me. Who I am today has the impressions of their influences still appearing in the seams of my actions, values, and words. 

My eyes moistened on each goodbye. Each embrace brought back a flood of memories— basketball games, conversations, laughter and pranks. The reunions also brought regrets that had not been able to be there with each of them in their celebrations and, more recently, their struggles. 

And so I thank God for friends and, as anti-cultural as it sounds, I thank Him for the ache of friendship. 

“While Jesus was having dinner at Levi’s house, many tax collectors and sinners were eating with Him and His disciples, for there were many who followed Him.” (Mark 2:15)

Carol and I returned from a great road trip to see friends in Michigan and Ohio, and finally, my sister and brother-in-law, who live at the southern tip of the Buckeye State. My sister has a front porch, populated with three rocking chairs. As people drive by, they wave and often yell their names. Folk who are out for a walk are mentioned by name, followed by questions about how their new puppy is doing or has their arthritis been flaring up again.

Trick-or-Treat Night is a hoot, since my brother-in-law has had many of those who are coming by the house as students during his long teaching career. In other words, the front porch is a connecting place for them and their neighbors. It’s not uncommon for my sister to even hand out tomatoes from the garden to people who she feels will be blessed in a small way by the gift.

Behind their house is the back patio. There is a swimming pool that their seven grandkids use everyday in the summertime. The back patio is a private area, surrounded by a tall white fence. It’s where deeper conversations and revelations occur. The front porch is welcoming, but the back patio is engaging. It’s where relationships are deepened, problems are talked about, and unhurried listening happens.

The picture could be an analogy for today’s church and the people who frequent its pews or cushy chairs. Like my sister’s warm and engaging front porch, churches seem to be very engaging with those that pass by the doors. There are bright and well-done advertisements about coming festivals, chili suppers, and community concerts. There’s the planned effort to connect with those who are not a part of the community of faith yet. It’s a planned effort that is saying to the person passing by or the community around it, “Look at us!”

Jesus invited his disciples to follow Him. In essence, so to speak, Jesus’ invitation was for people to follow Him around to the back patio and enter into conversations about life and having purpose. He desired to engage with them about hope, peace, grace, and the love of God. The gospels tell story upon story of Jesus in deep conversation with those who were the uninvited.

In our culture today, it may take pomp and glitter for churches to get noticed, but the turning point for those who have been gifted with the Good News is to always be available for back patio conversations. It tells the passerbyer that the Christ follower is not passive, but deeply interested in knowing their life story, struggles, and their unanswered questions.

“Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue set free, and he began to speak, praising God.  All the neighbors were filled with awe, and throughout the hill country of Judea people were talking about all these things. Everyone who heard this wondered about it, asking, “What then is this child going to be?” For the Lord’s hand was with him.” (Luke 1:64-66)

Friends of ours told us about the youth pastor that their church had brought on staff who had a stuttering problem. During his initial interview, the difficulty in speaking was brought up and talked about. There had been other positions in other places that the person had been immediately taken out of consideration for because of his start-and-stop pattern of communication. However, the interview committee of our friends’ church went deeper than words and took the time to discover the person’s heart and passion for ministering to young people.

His hiring has been a Godsend for the church’s passion for ministering to the young people of their community.

But God has a way of getting us to sense His direction…and then take us to another decision that tests the level of our commitment. The church, in unspoken ways, congratulated itself on the triumph of obeying the call of God in regards to their stuttering youth pastor.

It’s something we’ve all done. Patted ourselves on the back for the boldness that has usually been reserved for the heroes of motion pictures, or a segment of one of those special interest Paul Harvey stories from years-gone-by. We describe it as being the result of our obedient response to the leading of the Spirit or a result of our spiritual maturity.

But in the workings of the Almighty, this congregation was put in a position of having the stuttering pastor give the message one Sunday morning. Not just a devotional thought to the youth gathering or an opening call to worship, but the sermon of length and substance. In church life, the sermon is the main event…the culmination…the takeaway for the entire week. It is often the fodder for the table dinner conversation later on that day.

And now a guy who has a hard time completing a sentence without interrupting himself is going to be the conveyor of the “meat”.

Our friends said there was a bit of uneasiness that morning. It wasn’t the children who were squirming, but rather their parents.

And God then used the stuttering, sputtering youth pastor to speak deep truth to the auditorium that was filled with uncertain people. The stutter was still a part of the message. In fact, it was an integral part of the theme. His words reached down and touched the hard-to-reach spots of people’s souls.

In the glitz and fanciness of the Sunday church productions, rarely are there connections made with people’s souls. We may be impressed with the graphics and the harmony in the voices of the praise team, but it’s like watching a Major League Baseball game in late June. Since there are 162 game in the season, it doesn’t mean that much to us. After all, there will be another game tomorrow…and after all, there will be another sermon next Sunday.

Who can understand the ways of the Lord, and who can know the results of His leadings?

Some people might like to put a Benny Hinn-end to the story and envision that the youth pastor was cured of his speech problem that Sunday, kinda’ like Zechariah’s tongue being loosed at the birth of his son, John, in Luke 1. However, the youth pastor still stutters, but it isn’t seen as a limitation of his abilities, but rather a part of him that he has not allowed to limit him.

How often do we minimize the working of the Lord in our lives because of our lack of coolness, or because we don’t feel we understand some of the things that are said in the Bible, or even because of something that happened in our life that we feel we can’t be restored from? Even more than that, how often to we discount the value of others because they have some kind of imperfection that distorts their Ken-and-Barbie potential?

The things we allow to hold us back are sometimes the very things that God will use to bring glory to Himself.

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. (1 Kings 19:11-12)

Where is God working? Where is He moving?

When it comes to answering those questions, we are swayed by loud voices. Volume draws attention and attracts crowds. Silence is uncomfortable and disconcerting. We hypothesize that God must be in the midst of the thunderous applause. Holy calmness doesn’t fit in our theology of the extraordinary.

Granted, God does sometimes create thunder on the mountain, or have a multitude of angels praise Him, as news of the birth of His Son is announced to a group of stunned shepherds. There are a number of momentous events in scripture that I can’t believe silence could be involved, such as the parting of the Red Sea and the Day of Pentecost in Acts 2.

Sometimes, however, God speaks with a whisper. Whispers are different then the sound of voices. Whispers require quiet, in order to be heard. When Elijah had his encounter with God from the mouth of a cave, he wouldn’t have been able to hear the whisper of God if it had been mixed in with the earthquake, the wind that shattered rocks, or the fire that crackled with intense heat. The whisper of God needed to come after those voices had ended. The gentle whisper of God needed to be heard separated from the roughness of life.

I remember sitting down with our son’s first grade teacher and hearing her say, “David is my little whisperer. If I get focused on something and it gets to be 10:10, I hear this little whisper. “Mrs. Gratton, it’s time for recess.”

We are guilty of getting so caught up in the details of the day and the noise of the world that we miss the small whisper, the slight nudging. After all, a whisper is more personal. It is meant to be heard by only one or two at a time. Like the sharing of a moment between young parents in order to not wake their sleeping children, it is intimate and meaningful. It’s no wonder that David wrote so many of the Psalms. He spent huge amounts of time…alone…at night…in the fields…watching over his sheep.

Perhaps our confusion about where God is moving and what He is doing is tied in with our addiction to noise, our tendency to be listening to an overpopulation of voices, all at one time and never able to hear any of them. Maybe God would just like to get past the loudness, the ears plugged up with AirPods, and the chaos of life we think is normal, and whisper a secret of the Holy to us.

 ^“Once when Jacob was cooking some stew, Esau came in from the open country, famished.  He said to Jacob, “Quick, let me have some of that red stew! I’m famished!” (Genesis 25:29-30)

I’m a Bluebell Ice Cream fan. When my scoop hits the bottom of the round cardboard container, my first reaction is to jump in the car and run to Walgreen’s to restock. Walgreen’s usually sells it slightly cheaper than anyone else.

Although Bluebell is awesome, I would not drive to the store in a blizzard to buy another carton, or pay an inflated price in order to keep my freezer stocked. I’m blessed to be able to enjoy its flavor, but I’m also fairly rational in my understanding of where Bluebell Ice Cream fits in the plan of life.

There are those, however, who, so to speak, “put all their eggs in one basket”. They would risk everything on one thing. It could be a ticket to Game 5 of the NBA finals at Ball Arena in Denver, or admission to an Elton John concert, or going into debt to fund a family vacation to Disney World.

And then when the event or adventure is over, what then?

There was a man named Esau who had that tendency to forfeit future blessings for current wants. His story involves a younger brother (Jacob) who desires something important that Esau has that he will not be granted. Jacob treasures it, but Esau undervalues it.

Jacob had some exceptional culinary skills. One day he cooked up a pot of lentil stew. Esau, famished from a day of hunting for wild game, came home and got a whiff of the stew’s aroma. At that moment, he traded the thing that he had that his brother Jacob desired…for a bowl of stew. Delayed gratification was not Esau’s strong point, and his weakness took his life in a different direction than he and his father had planned for it.

A bowl of stew.

What happens when the spoon scrapes across the bottom of the bowl and there is nothing left to fill the spoon?

What happens when a person realizes he has put all of his eggs in one basket and he trips, falls, and squashes whole lot of them?

Spiritually speaking, it seems to happen to a lot of people. There is an over-emphasis on things or moments that quickly pass away and a neglecting of the spiritual promises and “the peace that surpasses all understanding.”

This past week, we had a major hailstorm hit our area. There was so much hail and rain that our sump pump couldn’t ‘t stay up with it. Thus, my wife and I worked like crazy to “stem the tide”. It reminded me of one of those scenes from the classic movie The Blob (Steve McQueen version), as we fought back the water creeping across the floor. However, there’s one thing about water in the basement that is kind of a clarifying moment. It reminds you of what can suddenly be gone that you thought was so essential.

Our trash guys will need to be tipped this week!

The daily bread of God is much more satisfying than one bowl of sweet-smelling stew. The temptation to take care of the immediate want leads a person to an emptiness that will never be filled. There are a lot of Esau stories today, people who are looking at the bottom of the soup bowl and saying, “That’s it?”

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves.” (Philippians 2:3)

If everyone agreed with me on everything, the world would be a much more “uninteresting” place to be a resident of. Debate and differing views create conversation, contemplation, and competition. I mean, if everyone were Boston Celtics fans, what would be the point of sports talk radio? If everyone had the same political viewpoints, resulting in there being just one political party, there wouldn’t be the need for questioning decisions. If all religions had the same beliefs, there would be no need for temples, mosques, churches and other types of religious places, since everyone would be on the same page on how they view the relationship between divinity and humanity.

But, thank God, there is diversity in how each of us views the world. We differ, and it is in our differences that we experience the challenge of compromise, the option of giving in, and the lure of getting everyone to agree with our personal opinion or want.

That lure of agreement is a driving force in today’s culture, whether it be in organizations, individual preferences, or corporation boardrooms. We want people to agree with us. There is nothing inherently wrong with that…if it ended there. However, there is something about our human nature that won’t let finding agreement be the end of things.

There is the lure of making those who disagree with us look like idiotic, out-of-touch, crazies. Such desires push us toward hints of arrogance, insensitivity, and caustic remarks. It’s no longer about winning the argument on what is the right way to do something, but rather showing how wrong opposing views are. Showing the error in a disagreeing view widens the gap between my way and the other way. It validates my superiority and the inferiority of the others.

But it’s also the lure of selfish ambition and the hidden deception of personal agendas. We all want our way. It’s as evident as trying to get our grandkids to agree on which fast food restaurant they would like us to take them to. It’s as blatant as opening our mailbox everyday in the month before a political campaign and finding the bulk of the mail consisting of how a certain candidate is such a loser. It’s as obvious as my wife and I trying to decide what to watch on TV. Pushiness often is victorious over reasonable suggestions.

Sad to say, but churches are notorious for the inhabiting of selfish ambition. After all, it was those who spent the most time with Jesus who got into a heated conversation about who among them was going to be the greatest in the kingdom of heaven? We tend to clothe the disciples’ question in spiritual-sounding language that longs to impress everyone with how Christ-like our self-centered want is. Humbleness tends to disappear as the heat level in the room climbs. The second part of Philippians 2:3 is forgotten, all that “in humility value others above yourselves.”

That’s laying the groundwork for thread marks to be all over me. Laying down my life…hmmm, that sounds familiar!

I admit I can sometimes be cynical when talking about churches. It comes from 69 years of experiencing them in different sizes, shapes, and flavors. I remember going to seminars back in the 80’s and 90’s on church marketing. We were educated on the nature of savvy consumers, what appealed and what didn’t get noticed. There were other seminars on how churches attracted visitors, what kept them coming back and what will cause them to NEVER come back.

We were “Firsts” back in those days. First Baptist, First Presbyterian, First United Methodist, First Lutheran, First Assembly. There were even a few Seconds and Thirds sprinkled into the mix. They indicated, by their history, that they were the first church of that denomination in town, or maybe the second, or the third.

New residents in town could look for their kind of “first”, and simply show up on Sunday morning at 11:00.

But things had gradually been changing while we were sleeping at our workshops and singing two hymns and a praise song on Sundays. New residents didn’t automatically look for their type of “First”. There weren’t any churches in their town that could reproduce the glitz and glitter of that religious program that was on TV. Besides that, Sunday mornings had become just as much about rest and recovery for folk to get ready for their Monday work grind.

So the “name change” cure for our spiritual apathetic culture began. First Baptist Church had been an indication of its denominational connection and people had become more and more suspicious of denominations.

Out with the “Firsts” and in with the spiritual calling card. Whereas, most of the downtown churches kept “First” in their name because of history, location, and tradition, others took up names that included a holy-sounding term, such as “Trinity”, “Holy Apostles”, “Grace”, “Sanctuary of Life”, “Peace”, “Hope”, “Fellowship”, and “Faith.” A church’s denominational affiliation couldn’t be discovered by looking at the name. A worshipper would have to look deeper. It seems that in many cases there were also subtle ideas being conveyed that said “We’re more concerned about you and our fellowship than we are of our denominational connection.”

And then another idea was introduced as new churches were being started and planted in new locations. It might be in a storefront or meeting at a school, or even the local YMCA. Someone, some genius, figured out that in growing metropolitan areas where suburbs kept being built further and further from the center of the city, that putting some kind of noun in the new church’s name would help people figure out where it was. Or, just put a name into the title that sounded like a location. Call it “Willow Creek”, “North Point”, “North Shore”, “Saddleback”, or “Gate City”, and make it innovative, upbeat, and have the pastor wear skinny jeans (Okay! That skinny jeans was sarcasm! I never understood cramming myself into a pair, but I’ve never understood ripped jeans either!) Many of the current mega-churches fall into this category. Some of them hit on something. However, most hit on nothing and disappeared as if they were K-Marts.

Finally, I’ve noticed there has been another trend that has emerged. It’s called “The Verb Church.” It seems that more congregations of the faithful are looking for that action verb that indicates movement and progress. Not that an action verb in the name of a church is bad or sacrilegious, it just seems to be the new thing. In our city recent times have brought the verbs “Empower”, “Proclaim”, “Magnify”, and “Restore” as examples of verb churches, most of which simply rebranded themselves and changed their name to incorporate the verb. Other verb churches around the country include “elevate”, overcome”, “triumph, and “relentless” (I guess relentless is an adjective, but still…).

Perhaps the verb church is a good thing. Maybe it conveys the idea that the church, in general, is not dead, but alive and active. Maybe it’s another phase that indicates churches, like emerging adolescents, are still trying to find their identity. Identity seems to be a thing that perplexes us. There, that’s another verb that may be appropriate for many communities of faith…perplexed, or confused, maybe even complicated.

All that to say, where God is met, experienced, and reflected is not dependent on a name, a building, or even skinny jeans. After all, He is the “I Am” no matter the title of who we are.

My life is filled with dreams, wishes, and possibilities. Some of the dreams are out of my control, such as being a 6’6″ shooting guard for the Boston Celtics. Instead, I’m a 69-year-old 5’7″ slow guy playing 6 A.M. hoops at the local YMCA.

But I have other possibilities that are…well, possibilities. Such as losing ten pounds before my physician tells me I need to lose ten pounds. Of course, my love for fried foods “weighs” against that goal. After all, I was born in Kentucky where the motto is “If you can eat it, we can fry it!”

The “I-would-like-tos” of life always have an opposing force pulling on the other end of the tug-of-war rope. I find this to be especially true when it comes to my desire to walk closely with God. Like New Year’s Resolutions, I have an unspoken list of spiritual desires. The phrase “I would like to…” is completed with a wide range of disciplines and practices. It isn’t the Lord who is holding me back from meeting the need. It’s that personal struggle, dare I say, that all of us deal with. It’s the resistance to the intimacy of God, and yet, at the same time, we long for the closeness of God.

Scripture is filled with active verbs that direct us in the ways of God. For example, 1 Thessalonians 5:7, without any confusing language, tells us to “Pray continually.” In another situation, Paul and Silas tell the Philippian jailer, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved…” (Acts 16:31). Still in another story, Jesus tells His disciples, “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation.” (Mark 16:15)

It hits me that rarely does scripture put the words “Would you like to…” in front of a command or directive. Jesus says, “Follow me”. He tells the waves of the sea, “Quiet! Be still!” He tells Zacchaeus to “Come down!”

Sometimes our spirituality resembles our ordering from a restaurant menu: “I would like to have the fried chicken…dark meat only…mashed potatoes…gravy on the side…a side salad with ranch dressing…and sweet tea to drink, no ice.”

If the server responded by telling us what we are GOING to have, not what we would like, most of us would balk, back up, and find a more hospitable dining establishment to help us fulfill our wishes.

“God, I would like to spend more time in prayer.”

It would knock our socks off to hear a voice from “yonder” reply, “Then pray! Pray continually, pray without reservation, pray with compassion, pray boldly.”

The simplicity of the directives of God are frequently seen through the complications of our own hesitancy. Sad to say, but it often is only when the urgency of our predicament limits the options of how we respond that we fall at the feet of Jesus.

I have a knockoff Apple Watch, a $35 version of the self-absorbed iWatch. It does everything that needs to be done, like tell me the time!!! It also does other things like tell me whether I slept okay, informs me of my stress level, somehow tells me that I’m playing basketball, measures my heart rate, can be a stop watch, acts as a compass, makes me coffee, toasts my bagel, and other tasks that I didn’t realize were so important. (Just kidding on the coffee and bagel. I think I need to upgrade to get those features.)

One of my cheap watch’s features that is disturbingly interesting happens after I’ve been sitting for a while. It suddenly vibrates and displays the words “Let’s Move!” on the face of the watch. If I’m driving, the slight buzz in the vibration can be felt by my wife in the front passenger seat. It’s a reminder for me to not stay stationary and to get the blood flowing. Three vibrations in a row and then silence. Brief, gentle, and instructive.

Andy Hostetler, the pastor of Discovery Church in Cibolo, Texas, said these words that caught my attention. “Sometimes God whispers. A whisper is different than hearing someone’s voice.” I wrote those words down, and then 30 minutes later, toward the end of Andy’s Sunday morning message, my watch vibrated on my wrist.

Sometimes God thunders with a shout and sometimes He nudges us with a two-word momentary vibration. Whispers require a discerning spirit, clued in to the slight indications of the closeness of God. In a culture that is becoming more and more conditioned to yelling, whispers are seldom noticed.

A few decades ago Becky Pippert, author of the book, Out of the Saltshaker, was speaking at an American Baptist youth convention in Michigan. How do you keep several hundred high school students engaged with what God wants you to say? You show up and get laryngitis. Pippert could only whisper, and the power in her words was amplified by the whispering of her story.

One of my favorite stories in the Bible involves the Old Testament prophet Elijah hiding in a cave. Several powerful forces pass by: a wind that tears the mountain apart, an earthquake, and then a fire. After each of these noticeable events the scripture makes the point that “…God was not in them…”, but then we come to these words:

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.” (1 Kings 19:12-13)

God was in the whisper. It was His whisper that he wanted Elijah to take notice of.

I’m glad I have vibrations, on my wrist not my hips. As I grow older and my hearing dulls, I need God to nudge me and speak to me with two words, “Let’s move!”