The crowd is shouting

Listening for God in 2025

Leon Augustin Lhermitte, “The crowd of the Marche des Halles in Paris in the 19th century”

Part 1

We are living in an age of extremes.

Why is it all so loud?

—

The New York Times did a big piece last week on the growing rate of religion in America. Pew research released findings that religion is actually no longer declining; the “rise of the nones” has leveled off.

Why is that? Here’s the answer, according to the Times:

“We’re in a moment of resurgent religious conservatism. The Supreme Court has anointed prayer in public schools. Elon Musk said he believes in the teachings of Jesus. Religious tradwives reign supreme on Instagram. The right says it all amounts to a ‘vibe shift.’”

I watch voices on this side shout down their enemies. They all seem so confident they are right.

Why is it all so loud?

—

There’s obviously another side.

I am reminded of Easter 2019, when Dr. Serene Jones—the president of Union Theological Seminary—was interviewed for the Times. In the interview, she said she found the virgin birth “bizarre” and that Easter was not centered on the bodily resurrection of Jesus Christ.¹

I watch as this side shouts down their enemies, too. They all seem so confident they are right.

Why is it all so loud?

—

Conservatives and liberals aren’t the only ones shouting. One pastor in my hometown believed systemic racism wasn’t real; another pastor in my hometown—based on his social media—seemed to only think about systemic racism. I had friends in high school who went away to a camp to learn their Spirit language; another church in town didn’t believe the Spirit spoke outside the Bible. I’ve attended churches that thought communion was just symbolic; I’ve attended churches that thought communion was so much more than that.

They all seem so confident that they are right. How is that possible?

Why is it all so loud?

—

My faith often feels like a castle.

Jesus sits quietly and patiently in the middle of the castle. Surrounding him are a series of booby traps, and there is only one way to get to him. I stand outside, and the mission of my life is to find that perfect way. In my hands is the Bible—and I’ve been told that somewhere inside it is the secret map that will take me to Jesus.

However, surrounding me is a crowd of people all shouting at me a thousand different sure-fire routes and interpretations. Alt-right and social justice warriors and cessationists and dispensationalists. All shouting and believing theirs is the only way; all others are just paths to hell.

And all the while Jesus is waiting in the middle of the castle, hoping I make it but not silencing the crowd.

Why is it all so loud?

—

We are living in an age of extremes.

Why is it all so loud?

Part 2

We are living in an age without nuance.

Why is God so quiet?

—

Last week I was walking down the street—I might have been in Grand Rapids, I’m not sure—when I realized my relationship with God has felt transactional recently. It has not felt relational. It’s just felt quiet.

Why is God so quiet?

—

“At times this faith life, this Christ Kingdom life, seems so strong and impregnable—such a solid bulwark against vanity and triviality…”

-Eugene Peterson (Letters to a Young Pastor, 105)

One night during my sophomore year of college, after an evening praying with friends in a cabin in the mountains, I went for a walk outside and felt I was floating. Catherine of Siena is said to have floated up stairs while praying. I felt a similar feeling.

Back then the noise of the crowd didn’t feel deafening; I experienced that “solid bulwark.” God spoke to me in the same way Mary Karr describes God’s voice in her memoir Lit:

“Vis-à-vis God speaking to me, I don’t mean the voice of Charlton Heston playing Moses booming from on high, but reversals in attitude so contrary to my typical thoughts—so solidly true—as to seem divinely external. And quiet these thoughts are, strong and quiet” (276).

Back then I spoke confidently of God and believed God was near to the brokenhearted. I still believe that, I think, but it somehow feels less tangible, like the volume has been turned down over time. The “strong and quiet” has just yielded to quiet.

But their shouting remains.

Why is God so quiet?

—

“At times this faith life, this Christ Kingdom life, seems so strong and impregnable—such a solid bulwark against vanity and triviality. And at other times…it seems so fragile, so vulnerable to being seductively undermined by subtle, unnoticed temptations, bringing some of the best people we know to shipwreck.”

-Eugene Peterson (Letters to a Young Pastor, 105)

I worry a faith that began as “such a solid bulwark” has turned fragile and vulnerable, “seductively undermined by subtle, unnoticed temptations.”

It’s all those voices around me shouting. They are all so confident, and I am afraid they have drowned out the strong and quiet voice of God. Conservative or liberal or something altogether different, they have reached a fever pitch in my brain, and they have gained something bigger than my allegiance—they have gained my attention.

Now when I walk down city streets, I do not float. Instead, I am coaxed into a stupor of fear, afraid to take a wrong step, afraid to go against the calls of the crowd.

Why is God so quiet?

—

We are living in an age without nuance.

Why is God so quiet?

Part 3

Google News is constantly refreshing in the background of my phone. Multiple times a day I log onto Christianity Today to read of the current controversies hitting the body of Christ. My Substack Notes are filled with hot takes about spiritual disciplines. Is John Mark Comer a Gnostic? I don’t think so, but I’ll spend thirty minutes reading all the opinions.

All these voices shouting around me, they have drowned out anything quiet, regardless how strong.

Has God grown quiet, or have I allowed these voices to grow loud?

—

Here’s the thing: Jesus is not passively sitting in the middle of the castle waiting for me. He is by my side because Scripture says he experienced every temptation I have (Hebrews 4:15). He heard the shouts of the crowds telling him the perfect path to God, and I know those voices were loud. I know the prospect of fear itched his brow; his pond threatened to freeze over too, just like mine.

That same crowd was the one to crucify him, to mock him on the cross, to laugh at his humility, to feed him sour wine. He died in their hands, refusing to fall into their temptations.

I believe that, I do.

—

Here’s the thing: the conservatives and liberals I painted at the beginning are more stereotype than literal. Most people are not one or the other; they are nuanced individuals. The problem with nuance is that it doesn’t get airplay on the internet. It’s drowned out by extreme takes and the very stereotypes it’s combatting.

The older I get, the more convinced I am that the voice of God and nuance have a lot in common; they are, in the words of Mary Karr, “strong and quiet.”

I think of Jesus telling Simon Peter to walk on the water. The wind and waves and storm were loud, but Simon Peter paid attention to Jesus’s voice calling to him. It wasn’t until he started recognizing the loud wind and waves and storm around him that he began to sink.

“Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?”

—

I am learning that the Christian life is walking on water and staring into Jesus’s face. It is doing my best to mute out this shouting, screaming world, with its brash opinions and lacerating condemnations. It is finding others who want to walk on water too—who want to speak and live with nuance—and trust in the strong and quiet voice of God, calling us to come.

A practical next step

I’m going to do my best to follow my own advice this Lent. I’m going to attempt to not be dependent on Google News, to not be up-to-date with the latest Christian controversy, to not allow my phone to constantly take my attention. I want to be a human again. I want to listen for God’s voice.

Ruth Gaskovski

and

Peco

over at

School of the Unconformed

are doing a Lenten “Factory Reset.”

Factory Reset: 49 days to restore your human default

Would you be interested in doing something like this with me?

May the quiet and strong voice of God be what we search for, friends.

happy Lent,

drew

---

1. Her interview reminded me of this quote from C.S. Lewis in Mere Christianity: “I will tell you another view that is also too simple. It is the view I call Christianity-and-water, the view which simply says there is a good God in Heaven and everything is all right—leaving out all the difficult and terrible doctrines about sin and hell and the devil, and the redemption” (46).