The other day, climbing into our truck way out in the country, Vava suddenly stopped me with a look of awe.
"Do you hear that?" she asked, "listen!"
The only noise I could hear was the distant hum of truck tires whirring on the highway. Nothing that would make me stand still, nothing that would make me close my eyes to hear more perfectly.
"What do you hear?" I whispered.
"It's God," she explained softly, thrilling, "singing!"
Her heart is so often tuned to hear Him, when everyone else hears traffic.
In the aftermath of the Orlando shooting, I expected to hear the ugly sound of callous judgment. I hurt over the raging hatred that pulled a trigger over and over; wept over the lives lost and the aching hearts of mourners left behind. I prayed for God's comfort and deep, gospel-peace to sweep in where evil had made itself so bloodily evident. And as I prayed I heard something unexpected and beautiful.
Not a lick of criticism. Not a breath of self-righteousness. Nothing ugly or cruel to rub salt in raw wounds. Just tender expressions of sorrow and sympathy and practical, Scriptural love.
Like the good Samaritan, Christians are meeting needs like donating blood and making meals and praying for everyone affected.
I cynically expected the whine of trucks on cement and I heard instead the tender heart of God, mourning, and singing.
I'm sure there is a lot of hateful rhetoric flying around already. I'm sure there are people who have confused what God asks us to do (love) with what God has reserved for Himself alone (judge). But I love that it's not the loudest sound. I love that Christians are reaching out to comfort non-Christians and to serve them in any way they can.
Do you hear that?
It's God, singing.