SOUND
THESE words are being penned on Christmas
morning, though you may be reading them in the season of the
Fourth of July. They are being written early on Christmas
morning, before daylight in fact. I wanted to sleep. The
family had been up late. First we went caroling for a local
charity; then we had a "homely" evening, parting for the
night with the anticipation: "We can sleep as long as we
want to in the morning—don't have to go to work."
Oh? Could we sleep? Not here in the South
where Christmas means fireworks. The rockets and Roman
candles were pretty to watch last night; but at 4:00
A.M.—it's another story to be jolted awake by booms and
crashes in every direction, spaced far enough apart to allow
one to sink back into the border of unconsciousness before
the next jar.
So, perforce, I awakened and pondered.
What is there about sudden loud noises that so fascinates
human beings? It seems a universal instinct. The Chinese,
most antiquely philosophical nation, invented fireworks,
feeling that their intermittent sounds and colors honored
their deities. None are too old to feel the compulsion of
sound and light. Returning last night, I passed a group of
boys who were placing a "whiz-devil" on the pavement, where
it "scooted around" all over the street, weirdly whistling
and sparkling. I joined the group, as attracted as they.
Sound, and light, and color! How utterly
necessary they are to human consciousness, comprehension,
and contentment! All three are the gift of God; and a love
for them He planted in the human mind that He created "after
His likeness." They are to us the symbols of life, which
explains their hold on our minds. Their absence means death:
"deathlike stillness," "the darkness of death," "as pale as
death"—these are instinctive comparisons.
God Himself lives in a heaven of sound
and light and color. The difference between His world and
ours is chiefly in measurement and use. His sounds have only
loving uses; His light never blasts; His color is never
bloody. And His measurement of the power indicated by sound
is somewhat in advance of ours. The louder the sound, the
more stimulating and satisfactory it is to human children of
all ages. And when the sound is accompanied by light and
color, it becomes to us the measure of the most tremendous
power achieved by man.
But who heard the sunset last night? It
was one of the most colorful I ever saw. The carolers walked
in awe of it, and they equally marveled at the graceful
cloud-attendants of the milder-beaming full moon. But who
heard sunset and moonrise? Yet their power shames A-bomb or
H-bomb. And by white (which we thoughtlessly call the
absence of color) God covers the scarlet of sin. The sounds
of earth are mostly cries of pain, sobs of soul agony,
drunken curses, or the laughter of fools. But if we listen
to the silences of God, we will hear His soundless voice.
Let us utter back, audibly or inaudibly, the sound for
which His heart longs: "Heavenly Father, I love Thee."
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