Psalm 27:4-5 (The Message)
       I'm asking God for one thing,
           only one thing:
       To live with him in his house
           my whole life long.
       I'll contemplate his beauty;
           I'll study at his feet.
        That's the only quiet, secure place
           in a noisy world,
       The perfect getaway,
           far from the buzz of traffic.

Psalm 46:10 (NRSV)
Be still, and know that I am God!…

I invite you to put on your coat, hat and boots. Come join me on a walk to my favorite quiet place just few hundred yards upstream from where Nine Mile Creek joins with the Minnesota River. It is a place where no one else goes but me. See, you can tell because my tracks from a week ago are the only ones for as far as the eye can see. Sit here on my log. Be still for a moment. Listen.

What is the quietest thing you can hear just on the edge of being inaudible?

The first sound I hear is the ringing in my own ears!  Arrgggh!  The echo of the buzz of traffic, the babel of shopping crowds, the carpet of mall Musak, but that soon fades. The little drummer boy drums his way off into the distance and takes his rum-pa-pum-pum with him. Ahhh. Much better.

The wings of the geese flying overhead make a whoosh-whoosh-whoosh sound, but that is pretty loud. I am sure I can hear something quieter than that. I am listening for something more like the sound of the wings of an owl, which is like no sound at all.

I can hear the sound of the creek. No rocks or rapids here. Only the muffled sound of water carving its way slowly through the heavy snow. Close.

There is a glassy sound, almost like the clink of champagne flutes, somewhere downstream where the water flows under an icy ledge. That's pretty quiet.

I hear the faint crunch of a footstep in the snow off in the distant woods. Too slow to be human. Sounds like a browsing deer. Is there anything here quieter than that?

Wait. Be still. Did you hear that? That was the sound of a snowflake as it landed on the water. There. Another one. Almost inaudible but unmistakable. I can hardly believe I actually can hear that.

Somewhere between the gentle kiss of those snowflakes and total silence is the loving whisper of God. Almost inaudible, but very recognizable. This is the place I seek. This is the voice I love to hear. This is the house where I want to live my life. The perfect getaway.

The cool thing is those quiet moments of communion with God are portable. I can take my resting place with me back into the world, back to work, back to my cubicle. Whenever I feel stressed or troubled or overwhelmed, I remember the kiss of the snowflake, or the sound of a butterfly landing on my finger, or the time I spent in prayer this morning. I know the sound of God. I know the voice of Jesus. And I know right where to find Him if I need to hear His voice again to seek His counsel or tap into His strength…and feel His love.