I heard something the other day that nearly dumbfounded me.

And then, upon reflection of what I heard, I realized it was very possible.

I heard that every sound that has ever been made never goes away. 

Just as water is still in the same amount as when the earth was created, and energy remains constant, so it seems sound could be.

Those sound waves carry on into the atmosphere, and probably on into the universe.

Obviously, we can’t hear them anymore, but they are still out there.  And I like to think there is a collective place where all those sounds find themselves and their counterparts. 

I slipped into a reverie and began to hear some of those sounds in my imagination.

The softest, the some of the most deafening.

I heard the soft invitation to a couple long ago.  I think that couple was so madly in love that the invitation given could have easily been disregarded as something invasive.  But they didn’t ignore it, and, in the cool of the day, they met the One who had made them. 

I heard the wailing death cry only a few short years later as one of their children died.

I heard the splash as an ax head fell into a stream and the gasp of those who saw it fly off its handle. 

Next, I heard the resonating tones of faith coming from one giving them instruction on how to retrieve it.

There was a quiet murmur of noise for a while, and then I heard the most terrifying sound of an approaching storm mixed with the shrieks of the damned. 

And then, after quite some time, all I heard was the gentle lapping of water upon water, silvery, almost.

Hope sounded when the waters receded, but not for long, and then, the most unnatural silence.  It was a silence that was so oppressive and yet it carried with it the despair and groaning of a whole creation waiting, most who knew not what for, and a few who did.

And after that horrible silence came absolute sound; visible and liquid in its purity, and as it quieted, I heard a quiet whimper of a newborn child and the soothing tones of his mother as she shushed him back to sleep.

Jubilant sound came forth, some thirty years later as mankind rejoiced in a new way and the complete liberty they felt within themselves.

I heard lightning split the air and immediately after came that frightening hiss right before the crash of thunder.   I heard men cry out in fear and I hear waves of immense height crash upon themselves.  And then, a shout, and all was still.  Such a stillness that was; holy in its quietude.

I heard as the miracles muted and, in their absence, harsh and unkind words, shouts of derision, and then, slamming down through all time came the sound of a whip, lashing against human flesh.

I heard the shout of victory three days later so entire that it reached to every rock on earth and every man.

I heard the martyrs weep, and the music given to them intertwined with their tears in a sound so reverent that I hesitated to listen, for all seemed so sacred.

Clanking and clanging of machinery soon gave way to horrible cries of men mixed with explosions and roaring that I feared for the escape of any caught in between the two forces pitted against each other.

Peacefulness followed those terrible explosions, and for some years, it seemed as though all was not lost until the strident noise of rebellion lifted itself again, both in the music of this world, and in picket lines strung across this nation.

I heard the gut-wrenching cry of the poor and innocent as man’s wicked schemes took those whom their vile desires settled upon from their safe places and trafficked them into the sex trade so that other men as wicked as themselves could consume themselves upon them in their own base desires. 

And I heard the most heartbreaking sound of all.  It was deafening in its silence. I heard the children whose parents didn’t love them.  They couldn’t cry out loud because they were old for their age, and they knew if they did it would only make things worse.  They have no home, either structurally, emotionally, or place of solitude where all is quiet.

But one sound kept me centered in the midst of all the sounds. 

It was that shout, with an outstretched hand that calmed the storm on a sea called Galilee.

And I think, somehow, that Voice that calmed everything in that dark night is enough.

Enough it seems, to bring to back to each of us, for our own benefit, whichever sound He chooses from all those that have been uttered.  

Especially so for the sweet daughter and her Josh as they begin their lives together next Sunday.