An office alive with the staccato pecking of typewriter keys. The steady clickity -click from the wheels of an overnight Pullman car as it speeds thru the dark. The unmistakable whine of rayon tires as an 18 wheeler speeds toward some far off destination. The cascading clink of a quarter as it descends its way downward thru the inner workings of a pay phone. The steady back and forth crunch of a rocking chair as it breaks the silence of an otherwise silent Sunday afternoon. The heartfelt sobs of a sinner on their knees before an altar as they break before the Lord. All sounds of another time and place, soon to be lost forever on a generation to busy to hear.
“Thank you,” “excuse me”, and “I’m sorry,” from a people more concerned with others than they were about themselves.
“This is such and such a company; how may I help you?”, from a real live person at a switchboard.
“Pardon me, Ms. Smith, but may I have the party line for just a moment? I have an urgent call to make.”
Or “Lord, forgive me, for I have sinned.”
Sounds of communication from a time when we still did.
Finally, silence. Complete, golden, utter silence. The cooing of a dove in the nearby tree. A hymn that brought tears to your eyes. The rustle of pages as Bibles were turned in unison to a scripture verse. A strong “amen” from all across the congregation. The Lord calling you to repentance?
How long has it been?. Will we hear them again? Ever.
Ps 46:10 Be still and know that I am the Lord.
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