I've Always admired that guy who was so shaken, aggressively buffeted, really feeling the heat so to speak, but then had such a profound inner calm that he moved forward effectively through very unsettling times. His name was Elijah, and his story is told in the Bible's Old Testament.

The tumult that surrounded him while he was camped on a mountain is described as earthquake, wind, and fire (see I Kings 19). But to me it illustrates states of thought. And right in the middle of all the chaos, the crucial factor was that Elijah was listening to God. Those very disturbing circumstances couldn't keep him from feeling, hearing, and recognizing "a still small voice."

We all may have our own, perhaps less dramatic, life events where we feel shaken, buffeted, faced with hot issues. That's when Elijah's story shows that something more important is going on. We can feel that same inner silence allowing us to hear God's voice, which says we're actually moving through some transitions in a way that will bless not just ourselves, but the people around us, too. Fear and doubt can't change the outcome. Elijah's experience of hearing that calming voice of God was proceded by moments when he was in fear for his own life, as well as in doubt about its value. Nevertheless, his time of refuge on the mountain was followed by dramatic spiritual progress in drawing closer to God, which eventually lifted him—literally—out of the limitations of mortality.

That pure, clear voice of stillness asserted itself in the middle of events that on the surface appeared as shifting, changing, and dangerous. But because of his connection with God, spiritual peace, poise, and tranquillity defined what Elijah experienced, rather than the tumultuous events that others may have seen him in.

I recall years ago being tossed about in a little boat while on a rough ocean. Delightful isn't exactly the word to describe that ride! But it has caused me to think of how incredible it was that Jesus could have slept peacefully on a boat as it was thrown around by waves so violent the other people on board were sure they weren't going to survive (see Mark 4:35—41). I have no doubt that even while he rested, Jesus was listening, his inner peace keeping everyone safe as they sailed ahead.

Some people may assume that Jesus' words at that time, "Peace, be still" (Mark 4:39), came from a commanding human voice, loud enough to be heard above the roar of the waves. But I wonder. Maybe it could have been a gentle and tender whisper—a kind of "still small voice" that produced the same powerful effect that had touched Elijah's life so many years before. Either way, the crew was settled, the waves quieted, and the journey continued.

As time moves forward, it may be hard for people not to feel overwhelmed by changes and transitions. Most of us can find times in our own lives where the "boat ride" may not, on the surface, be very smooth. But the real story in our world, our lives, our churches, our homes, is all about that still small voice, more than it is about the ride itself. That voice of God is what is really speaking. Hearing it is what will continue to reveal the solutions and the blessings.

No matter what shifts or transitions you may face, within your consciousness is the voice of Truth, telling you that everything will be OK. This is the Christ itself. It is still whispering, "Peace, be still." Taking moments to listen for and to feel this voice assuring you that God is constantly here—nurturing, loving—can be the best and most important part of your day. His voice assures us that whatever shifts in direction the current of human events may make, we're actually being drawn closer to Him—closer to discovering the genuine nature of His spiritual children. We are rooted in the steadiness of divine Love.

The founder of the Sentinel, Mary Baker Eddy, wrote of how empowering it can be to seek and find a deep spiritual peace: "This strength is like the ocean, able to carry navies, yet yielding to the touch of a finger. This peace is spiritual; never selfish, stony, nor stormy, but generous, reliable, helpful, and always at hand" (The First Church of Christ, Scientist, and Miscellany, p. 121).

This woman wrote out of experience, not theory. She told, for instance, about an experience she had of what today we would call an effort to terrorize. Imagine walking into a crowded auditorium to preach a sermon after having received letters that threatened to blow up the hall. Nevertheless, she preached. One can see in her explanation what must have been a still and steady voice encouraging her to go forward. "I leaned on God, and was safe," she wrote (Message to The Mother Church for 1902, p. 15).

The world is full of events that cover up this voice. But prayer can prevent this. Listening to the messages that come in prayer can be more real to you than unsettling circumstances. Those messages of peace can actually calm the waves around you just as they did for Jesus. I believe that his reality was the peace. And that the reality of so many others—the storm-tossed waves—conformed to what he knew was spiritually true.

We can read the Bible and think deeply of how powerfully the voice stabilized Elijah's life. And we can feel inspired by the Gospels, and value what they say about the changing events in Jesus' day-to-day development, the places he went, the people he encountered, the very drama of his life. But at the core of it all was the fact that they heard and followed God's voice. And we can do the same. Jesus expected it of us. Whatever changes and transitions arise, we can let the inner voice steadily lead us closer to God. It will give us stillness, a quietness that will outweigh any commotion and bring the journey forward.

We can listen, and be at peace.