"A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains…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 there was fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.
After the fire, there was a tiny whispering sound. When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak, and went and stood at the entrance to the cave."

(1Kings 19: 11-13a)

I love this story of Elijah trying to find the voice of God. He heard the wind, he felt the earthquake, and he saw a great fire, but God was not in any of them. It was not until Elijah heard a "tiny whispering sound" that he hid his face and listened.

Too often I get discouraged by the seeming absence of God. I weep over the wars and violence in our world, even on the very ground where Jesus once walked. I am appalled at the scandalous abuse and cover-ups in our own Church. I ache over the devastation of our environment for the sake of profit. I cringe at the derision of Catholicism all around me. I long for God to come with a mighty arm and set everything right. I hunger for the strong wind, the earthquake, and the fire.

Then, in the quiet of prayer, I am reminded. God is the strength of all those working to correct abuse and stop violence. God is the tears of victims longing for wholeness, and the hope in the eyes of children. God is the hunger and thirst for righteousness, the weeping, aching, and longing within me. God is the voice that refuses to be silenced. God is the quiet whisper connecting us one to the other, the life surging within us, the stab of conscience when we hurt another, the ecstasy of true love and the despair of love lost. God is the living rock upon which we stand and from which we serve.

In the quiet of prayer, I am renewed. I regain hope, the assurance that God will ultimately have the final word - the word of life. And from there I go, the imperfect instrument of this marvelous and mysterious God, called to be a living witness of faith to the children and young people I teach.

I know I will be tempted to look for God elsewhere, or even to demand that God be elsewhere. It is difficult in the tumult and clutter of life to take time for prayer. Yet in order to effectively model faith, to authentically convey the wonders of a relationship with God, I need to continually return to the quiet. Therein lies the voice of God.

Amy Florian