The Hum of Creation
Listening for Light In The Silence
Sometimes what feels like silence is anything but empty. Beneath the stillness, there’s a hum—a quiet reminder that life, light, and the voice that spoke creation into being are still resonating. As the prophet Elijah discovered, “the Lord was not in the wind… nor the earthquake… nor the fire, but in a gentle whisper” (1 Kings 19:11–12). This reflection explores that unseen, unheard vibration of existence and what it means to listen for the divine whisper when everything else feels unbearably quiet.
The hum in an empty room reminds me that silence is never absolute— even in the catch between breaths, a faint signal still blares, mostly inaudible, but there. Just as in every darkness there is a hint of light. There’s an eternal sound of vitality, a vibrant vibration of atoms— invisible to the eye, audible to the soul. When you listen close enough, especially on those hard, lonely days, when the spirit strains against bone, and standing strong feels impossible, all you can do is sit in silence and pray, letting the tears and truth pour out. You may hear that still small voice, from the One who whispered creation into existence, and invented sound with His voice; those silent vibrations, the echoes of His life-giving utterance: “Let there be light.” That light has never left, holding together everything in existence, and that hum is the air remembering with joy the touch of God’s voice at the beginning of creation— still speaking even now. We may have drowned out the Creator’s calm constant voice, forgetting how to listen, but the elements have not. The rocks still cry out. M. R. Jones


Reading this feels like sitting by a fire, where silence isn’t emptiness but a pulse. You caught the moment beautifully: when everything seems lifeless, yet if you listen closely, you hear the breath of creation.
I resonate with the thought that the light never went out. Even if our ears grow dull, the world keeps sounding. Stones, air, vibrations — all carry the memory of that first “Let there be light.”
Thank you for this piece. It reminds me: sometimes the most vital thing is not in the loud answer, but in keeping an ear tuned to the quiet whisper.
–– And the question that lingers: if silence truly carries this echo, are we ready to trust it as much as we usually trust the thunder?
That last stanza…that last sentence is stroke of poetic mastery.