God’s Love is a Quiet Murmur

In these frigid January mornings of the new year, I let my dog out and embrace the chilly stillness. A distant hum of energy is heard from car engines on the highway, but the sun is just emerging over the tree line. A faint pink and orange light breathes up and over the bare branches. I inhale as deep as I can, letting the sharp cold wake my soul. I look up and smile.

God is here. In this moment. Meeting me and welcoming me into the new day. Before anything else can snatch my attention, I feel the urge to pause in this cold morning. My senses are awakened, and my feet stand on the firm, cold ground.

In the last months of the year, I was running to get to…January. And January is never exactly what I hope for.

Easily side-stepping this raw winter month for something more exciting, I want spring. I long for buds and blossoms and blooms. My heart wants the birds to sing and the days to grow longer. Distracted and delighted by change, the ordinary can suffocate me.

But, if we seek God in a space where all we want is to rush ahead to the next season, peace can be found in winter when all of nature lies dormant. Just beneath the surface something is stirring, but only time will produce roots that grow strong only underground.

In this calmness as silence captures our attention, God’s voice is more clearly heard.

The subdued footsteps of a squirrel gathering breakfast. A bird’s smooth flight across the budding morning as she embarks to find food. The glow of interior lights in houses where God’s image-bearers wake to greet the morning. In a world that wants rushing, reckless, riveting love, we miss the sweet tenderness of God’s selfless love and his quiet voice.

God waits for us to seek him, and doesn’t push himself in our way.

When I think of quiet, I imagine the little old woman in the rocking chair of Goodnight Moon whispering hush. She calmly rocks bath and forth with her knitting, willing the occupants of the playroom to quiet their movements and behold the change from evening to night. The feel of the slowing of our bodies as we desire sleep.

Be still before the Lord
    and wait patiently for him;
do not fret when people succeed in their ways,
    when they carry out their wicked schemes. Psalm 37:7

God’s love is not busy. Even while anxiety tries to steal the slow of the morning, God pulls me back to this mindful silence. I want to relish in the welcome of this moment. The soft fur of my sweet pup fills my hand as I lead him back toward the house from his morning constitution (ha, dog-lovers unite!). I wait for my son to emerge from his room, rocking bedhead and softly slipping down the stairs in his footed pajamas, thumb in mouth. The smells of a morning brew waft from the coffee pot.

In the serenity of this slow morning, thoughts of God’s care for me, his death for me, his obedience for me solidify each living heartbeat. My prayer is for a renewed heart and mind to see his love for me more clearly.

The desperation and depression in us is being remade after a season of brokenness. God’s love is redemptive as he takes each shattered thing and creates something beautiful from it. God’s love is remaking all that is broken.

But first, there is a stopping, a slowing. A stillness that occurs before the wheels begin to churn again.

This stillness after a turbulent roller coaster is like a gentle wakening to grace. A gift in the solitude to look out and see all around me that God’s love is anything but busy. And his love exists in the golden-hued leaves kissed by a sun that brings new mercies each morning.

Love grows in the stillness. Perspective is perfected in the not moving. Small nudges of comfort give space to acceptance and beauty. The pain of the past is redeemed and resurrected in the light of a sovereign presence. Sitting, resting, looking at the peacefulness of a sleeping babe. There is nothing a mother can do to speed this time along. And while she might want time to be in her hands, she appreciates that she has no control over it. That is too big of a burden to bear. The anxiousness and drive of past experiences dissipates into a revelry of anticipation for this time with our sweet children.

Where October, November, and December kept us running and turning, January can be somewhat harsh, brutally clotheslining us as we fall. Or we can look at the beginning of a new year as a welcome calm to catch our breaths and lean in to listen to a love that whispers to us.

God’s love quietly murmurs his delight in his children, his confidence in the abilities he has given us, and his contentment to sit with us in these tranquil moments, punctuated only by deep, harmonious breaths in and out.

Your Turn

Each January, I really do long for spring. But this thought about God’s love being quiet and hearing his voice when we still our own wandering minds has given me pause this January.

What do you notice in the winter that you might not have noticed in a busier season? Use your five senses to get a bigger picture of how God is delighting in you.

Can you feel God’s love pursuing you even when you rest? In the quiet, can you hear him more clearly?

Thank God for what you’ve heard from him. Maybe your January is not necessarily slow, but nature has a way of showing us new rhythms.