This. This is where I belong: Amongst the birds and streams and skittish squirrels. Out here where wind through leaves is more common than human voices, where the noise is a susurrus that does not break the quiet, but amplifies it, and makes it more complete. This quiet is not silent, and is better for being filled.
I wonder if the quiet of God’s voice might flow from non-coercion. God will not force our hand, and so he will not shout. God will not demand our attention, will not force himself upon us.
And noise is a kind of force. It demands attention, distracts us, and forces its way through our defenses. God speaks for all who would hear, but does not draw attention to it.
The speech of God is no assault.