A Father's Voice

The past couple weeks I, Andy, have felt like God has been teaching me to slow down and listen to Him. This lesson came to me quickly one afternoon at work while I was reading these two blog posts (Part 1 and Part 2) by Kevin DeYoung during some of my free time. These posts convicted me of the time I spend seeking "knowledge" and "purpose" from the internet. I can so easily waste away a slow afternoon on the internet - jumping from blogs to news to sports to anything - filling my life with noise. The last paragraph of Part 2 was what quickly grabbed my attention and placed the conviction from my head to my heart.

He says,

What if we prefer endless noise to the deafening sound of silence? What if we do not care to hear God’s still, small voice? 

God's still small voice. That's what caught my attention. I was in 1 Kings just that past Tuesday and my reading had covered chapter 19. This is when God summons Elijah to a mountain to ask him something. Verses 11-13 tell of how there was a strong wind, and then an earthquake, and then a fire...but God was not in any of those. Instead it says that the Lord was in the sound of a low whisper; or as the King James Version puts it, "a still small voice."

I believe the Lord brought this passage of scripture to me twice that week to waken me to the truth that it's  not the noise that will comfort me, it's not the knowledge at my fingertips that will plan my life, but rather His voice, Himself who will speak to me. And sometimes that voice is still...sometimes it is small.

So I wrote a song. It relates my earthly father - whom I miss dearly and whose character I admire immensely - to my heavenly Father - whom calls me to slow down, listen, and seek Him. 

Here are the lyrics. Click on the title to listen to the song.

 A Father's Voice

Father wasn't in the field

Father wasn't in the shop

Father wasn't on the streets

Father, he was in our home.

Reading, praying,

quoting to me.

Laughing, crying,

serving family.

Still small voice You cry

Still small voice You pry

Still small voice You try

to speak to me.

Father wasn't in the wind

Father wasn't in the quake

Father wasn't in the fire

Father, he was in the still.

Calling, yearning

for me to slow.

Open, waiting

for me to seek.

Still small voice You cry

Still small voice You pry

Still small voice you try

to speak to me.