08/12/2026
"Maybe growing closer to God has less to do with searching for extraordinary experiences and more to do with learning to recognize His quiet presence in the ordinary. " Sue Switalski reflects on this weekend's Gospel.
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My dad was never one to yell. Even while raising 5 very active, vibrant, and inquisitive children. (And I was, of course, the best behaved of them all – wink, wink) Whether he was offering praise, correcting one of us for straying off (or charging off) the path of good behavior, or reminding us of something important, he rarely raised his voice. Instead, he would speak in a calm, almost hushed tone. If I am being honest, it was particularly effective when letting us know that he was disappointed in us. Ironically, the quieter he became, the more intently we listened. We would stop what we were doing, lean in, and hang on every word. Our first reading reminded me of my dad’s quiet, yet commanding communication style!
Many times, I think I expect God to speak through big dramatic moments or life-changing events, unmistakable grandiose signs, or incidences so obvious that it came from Him. It sure would be a lot easier if God hit me over the head to help me recognize Him! Or perhaps give me a play-by-play book! Wouldn’t that be easier? However, the more I reflect on God’s movement in my life, I know that’s not how God often reveals Himself to me.
Perhaps whispers are what love sounds like. Elijah knew this in the very moment God revealed Himself in that gentle whisper. I think that’s why we read that Elijah covers his face right after he hears God’s voice!
A whisper doesn't force itself upon us. And neither does God’s love. Both invites us to come closer. It asks us to quiet our hearts, not because it is distant, but because He desires relationship more than a grandiose spectacle. He wants more than our attention. He wants our presence. He wants US!
The Gospel gives us another picture of what that relationship looks like.
The disciples are caught in the middle of a storm. The waves are crazy, the wind is against them, and fear begins to take over. Then Jesus comes walking across the water. Peter, filled with courage, steps out of the boat and begins walking toward Him. But the moment Peter shifts his attention from Jesus to the strength of the wind, he begins to sink.
But check out what Jesus does. He doesn't calm the storm before coming to the disciples. He comes to them in the middle of it. Right smack dab in the middle of it. And when Peter begins to sink, Jesus doesn't stand back waiting for greater faith or wishing or hoping for it. Immediately, He reaches out His hand. Immediately. And then, Peter accepts the help that Jesus provides. (Do we accept the help that Jesus provides? Ooof, that’s a whole different reflection for another time)
The “storms” that are in our lives may look different depending on what’s going on in our life. For one person, the storm is raising young children or caring for aging parents. For another, it is a frightening diagnosis, the loss of someone they love, financial uncertainty, loneliness, or simply wondering what God is asking next. I have yet to meet anyone who has lived a life void of tumultuous times – no matter how perfect their life looks on the outside. The storms can look very differently in those around us. And the noise can be different too.
Sometimes the noise comes from an overfilled calendar and a mind that never seems to rest. Other times it is the deafening silence of an empty chair at the dinner table, a phone that doesn't ring, or prayers that seem to go unanswered. It can be from the need to be busy or the need to be needed. Whether our lives feel overwhelmingly loud or painfully quiet, both can draw our attention away from the One who is already with us.
Maybe growing closer to God has less to do with searching for extraordinary experiences and more to do with learning to recognize His quiet presence in the ordinary. We discover Him in the Scriptures, in prayer, in the Eucharist, in laughter, in friendship, in grief, in the kindness of another person, in pain, in moments of stillness, and even in the storms that we would never have chosen.
This week, perhaps the invitation is simply to take a deep breath and lean in…no matter what is going on in your life. Lean in during your prayer, even if all you have are questions. Lean in when life feels noisy. Lean in when the silence feels heavy. Lean in when the winds of life seem stronger than your faith. Lean in and watch the gentle summer breeze blow through the tree tops and thank God for the wind.
Because the God who spoke to Elijah in that beautiful, gentle whisper and the God who reached for Peter in the storm is still speaking to you today. I pinky promise. And if we are willing to draw close enough to listen, we may discover that He has been whispering our name all along.
The more we learn to receive God’s presence in the middle of our own personal storms, the more we can become centered in His peace. And the more we are centered in His peace, the more we can become that quiet, steady presence for a world that longs for hope, searches deeply for peace, and desperately desires knowing that they are not alone.
God’s Peace ~
Sue Switalski
Interim Adult Formation Coordinator
