The Voice of one crying in the Wilderness

As I walk through the streets of London, I am amazed by the vast array of languages and accents. People from all parts of the world walk side by side in a grand tapestry of many colors and fabrics. Each voice distinct yet part of a kaleidoscope of cultures existing harmoniously.

Like in this week’s Gospel Luke 3: 1-6 ‘The voice of one crying in the wilderness’ each voice unique and different. The sheer number of people creating its own wilderness. It is in such a modern world noisy landscape that the voice of the word of God comes to each of us.

This week’s Gospel challenges us to discern that voice amid the noise of the wilderness. Here I am in the noisy streets of London and I have to hear and listen to that voice. Advent is such a time. Each of us is in our unique wilderness with a backdrop of a crazy frenzied world with cosmic signs and yet we are called to listen to that soft voice speaking to us.

As we said in yesterday’s post, we can only do this if we cleanse and purify a space within ourselves, a silent sacred space that is open to Metanoia (see Monday’s post). It is only then we can discern that voice crying in our wilderness.

I heard that voice, ten years ago, speaking to me in my wilderness. And that voice led me to a profound change in the direction of my life, from an independent small business man to a deacon evangelist. But not all Advents are so dramatic, some are nuanced and subtle, calling to improve a relationship, forgive another, spend more of each day in prayer and study.

What is that voice in the wilderness calling each of us towards, this year. Is it inviting us to let go of distractions and listen more deeply? To mend a broken bond, extend a hand to someone in need or start back participating in church? Perhaps it whispers of a long-held dream we’ve ignored, or a fear we need to confront with faith.

This year more than others the voice in the wilderness speaks to me of healing. Many of my friends and family are facing illness, grief and trauma. Others are facing significant life transitions, dealing with loss of one type or another. How can I be a healing balm in their lives?

This Advent, the voice may not thunder, but instead gently beckon us to prepare our hearts, to make room for God’s presence in the quiet, ordinary moments of our lives. Do we have the courage to open our hearts?