Yesterday, we talked about keeping our eyes open for burning bushes—those unmistakable, holy interruptions that wake us up to God’s presence. Today feels… quieter than that. In fact, most days feel quieter than that.
No fire. No voice from the flames. Just another ordinary day that looks suspiciously like the one before it.
And that raises an honest question: How do we “practice” awareness of God when nothing seems to be happening? It’s so easy to let one day pass and then another and another, and suddenly a week – or a month – has gone by with little thought of God and no awareness of God’s presence in and around us.
In 1 Kings 19, the prophet Elijah is facing a similar problem, though perhaps with a little more drama. Some big things have happened in his life, and he finds himself exhausted and discouraged. He calls out for God. Seemingly in response, a great wind comes … but God isn’t in the wind. The wind was followed by an earthquake, and the earthquake by a fire. Despite Elijah’s expectations, God wasn’t in the wind, earthquake, or fire. Afterwards, there was just silence.
Elijah gave up and started to walk away. And that’s when he heard it. A small voice that asked, “What are you doing, Elijah?”
Not exactly attention-grabbing. Which is, perhaps, part of the point.
We often look for God in the obvious, the dramatic, the unmistakable. But much of the spiritual life is learning to recognize God in what is quiet and easily overlooked.
Brother Lawrence wrote, “The most holy and necessary practice in our spiritual life is the presence of God… to take delight in and become accustomed to His divine company.”
That word “accustomed” matters.
While some may get a burning bush on rare occasions, for most of us, awareness of God is less like spotting a rare event and more like developing a habit of attention. It is practiced.
Which means some days won’t feel extraordinary at all. Some days will feel like folding laundry, answering emails, making the same decisions we made yesterday, and wondering if any of it counts.
So when the bush isn’t burning, perhaps the invitation is not to search harder for something dramatic…but to listen more carefully in the ordinary. To “practice” listening for God’s quiet voice and looking for God’s small sign of presence.
To pause. To whisper. To notice your breath. To remember that God isn’t absent just because he’s quiet. Because sometimes the holiest awareness is not found in what stands out…but in what stays.
Prayer: God of the quiet and the unseen, teach me to be aware of you even when nothing feels extraordinary. Help me to listen for your voice in the silence and to trust that you are near in every ordinary moment. Amen.
