So much of my prayer life craves the grandiose—the big, booming voice from the heavens or the wild winds that hum in resolution. You know, the stuff you read about in the Bible.
But God doesn’t speak to me in that way. And most of the time, I feel so alone in it. Because most of the time, I pour my heart open to the skies and search through the Word waiting for the lightning and the thunder and the waves and the roars. But it never comes.
God speaks to me in whispers, in the quiet undertone of my heart. And it’s easy to discount. It’s easy to push it aside or question its validity. Because His voice, it is small within me.
Sometimes I forget about the power in the smallness of things, each gentle nudging in our hearts that sways us this way or that. And I think it’s because sometimes I forget about the smallness of Him. I forget about the beginning—the little infant, the tiny manger, and the great big promise it all fulfilled.
In today’s Gospel, the wise men "prostrated themselves and did Him homage." They bowed before the tiniest form of life and "offered Him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh" (Matthew 2:11). They saw the magnitude in the smallness resting before them.
God often doesn’t speak to us in wild, thunderous roars. Sometimes His voice is small, but it is always mighty. Always.
Take time to stop by a beautiful church nearby, or make a pilgrimage to one, and soak in His voice in His house. See this list of 100 pilgrimage sites in the USA.
Brittany Calavitta is an enthusiastic advocate for a good book, strong coffee, and a hopeful heart. After battling years of infertility, she and her husband welcomed their first child on September 11, 2016. You can find out more about her here.