Listen to the Whispers

by Ryan Townshend on Saturday of the Third Week of Advent

Take some time this day to stop and think about the last time that God has spoken to you. Can you remember? Often, we lose ourselves in the rush, the three lanes of traffic on the highway, the arm length list for the grocery store, the hundred gifts we need to get for relatives, family and friends.

Suddenly amongst the chaos of modern materialism, monetary standards of success and a pushing socioeconomic drive for education, I find myself stopping in a stand of trees on my way home to my apartment in the far reaches of the north campus wilds. The sun gently rests on my face as it falls through the parted tree branches accompanying the light falling of snow as it tries to add its soft white hue to the sleeping Earth. This is how God spoke to me that day. The words were felt more than heard. They were a reminder. Our ultimate goal in life should be to serve our Creator, not serve ourselves. It’s in small moments like this that I find God most present with me. This is when I remembered that God won’t always scream at us like the ads on the television with flashing bright lights and wired ecstatic voices pushing “good deals” that we “absolutely need” to get.  

In the reading from Isaiah 7:10-14, Isaiah tells Ahaz to ask “for a sign from the Lord,” but Ahaz refuses. Isaiah rebukes him and says the Lord will give him a sign none-the-less and it is revealed to him that Jesus is to be born to Mary the Blessed Virgin. How often do we find in our lives that God is inviting us with small signs everyday that we refuse to see? Spend some quiet time today and simply listen. God may speak to you if you just take the time to hear Him.   

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.   

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” from The Poetry of Robert Frost, 

edited by Edward Connery Lathem. Copyright 1923, © 1969 by Henry Holt and Company, Inc., renewed 1951, by Robert Frost.