“From the wilderness there is a voice proclaiming, “Make way for the Holy One, smooth the paths through the wild places for our God. Raise the valleys, lower the mountains, level the steep slopes, and smooth out the rough spots” Isaiah 40.4-5.
We did some hiking this fall that took us through varied terrains of hills and flat roads that wound through tall green pines and deciduous trees that were ablaze with rusts, oranges, and yellows, which occasionally opened up on hillside overlooks or tucked away clearings.
As we stepped off a main road onto a smaller trail beneath the canopy of the woods, it’s amazing, even in the fall, how quickly the noise drops. The world, even miles from car engines, carries with it a hum of voices and activity that fill the air, particularly in the cool air. But once you step inside the thick growth of trees, the noise is muffled, and the sound of your footsteps and that of birdsong grow louder.
It’s not just the noise from outside the woods that grows quiet but also the sounds inside. It was rare in those walks we encountered other hikers, but when we did we only noticed their presence when they were just around a bend ahead of us. The thick silence muffled not just footsteps but the voices of those out there in the wilderness with us.
The memory of those walks has made me think of this familiar passage differently this year. Often, the words of Isaiah’s fortieth chapter are read alongside the appearance of John the Baptizer, cousin of Jesus.
John seems hard to miss what with his rough clothes, his…rustic diet, and his harsh proclamations. And reading passages about his ministry alongside Isaiah leave us with an impression that this voice coming out of the wild places is one that is loud, hard to ignore. It’s like a sound so loud that it carries for miles and miles through the cool, December air.
But as I think back on the deep, muffling silence of the wild woods where we walked, I’ve begun to wonder if perhaps this voice calling out from the wilderness isn’t one that is loud and hard to ignore. Perhaps, deep within the trees, it’s one that you come upon suddenly, never hearing until you round the next bend.
It’s a very different image, isn’t it, from the one that usually comes when we think of this voice. Rather than one that is unmistakable, booming through our windows and filling our ears, it’s a proclamation that’s easy to miss. In fact, if you’re not out there in the wild places listening to the sounds of your own footsteps and the wind through the trees, you wouldn’t hear it at all. You, certainly, wouldn’t hear its words to begin tending the path beneath your feet—digging the dirt from the hills to fill in the lower places, moving rocks, covering roots, and easing the slopes—for One who is coming.
And maybe that makes more sense for the One that came as small and vulnerable as a child. Perhaps the voice that cries out to us today and every day isn’t the loud, booming one. Maybe it’s the one it’s so easy to miss.
A voice telling us that the One is here, and is coming our way.
Jesus, help me to brave the wild places, the overgrown and shadowed places of my life, my heart, my soul in this season. Help me to walk quietly, where the noise of the world is muffled and quiet; so, I can hear the voices declaring that you are coming this way. And hearing, that I might make ready the way and spread the word to others on the path to do the same.