Thank God for the Noise

So I have to admit that some of what I’m attempting to write here is challenging me. I say that because right outside my window at about 6 a.m. is the sound of happy birds chirping, a light breeze blowing through the trees, and the blaring sound of construction vehicles, doing what construction vehicles do. The birds and the breeze invite serenity. The other noises are making every attempt at waking my children up before they need to be up (and I’ve only had two cups of coffee this morning — I’m just not ready for this yet!).

And yet here I am writing — “Thank God for the noise.”

Am I out of my mind? Am I out of things to write about only three weeks into this writing adventure? Should I wait until I’ve had a third cup of coffee before I write this?

Why would I want to thank God for the noise?

Let me throw some context into the mix here, so you can understand more clearly how I arrived at this topic. It started one morning at church this past year.

If you don’t know who I am or what I do, in a nutshell I’m the pastor of Redefined Community Church, AKA “the church at the park” (we love that people call us that, by the way). We are in the middle of celebrating our one year anniversary and are in awe literally every Sunday morning at what God is doing in the church and community.

Don’t hear me wrong, this isn’t a shameless plug for the church. But it’s where I first had the thought about being thankful for noise.

Every Sunday morning when the kids are dismissed to their classes, it gets a bit noisy. Sometimes so noisy that you can’t hear yourself think (and by the way, I never understood how that was possible until my wife and I had four children).

And while that can be distracting, and sometimes annoying (you can admit it) it’s also completely and absolutely beautiful. Why? Because that noise represents life, and health, and growth.

When you get a chance, read the 98th Psalm in your bible. I’m going to sum it up with a list of keywords that stand out to me. Sing, shout for joy, burst into jubilant song, make music, clap hands, sing together. And that’s just from one short chapter.

I want to point out that all of these words are used in a positive and productive way, not in a way that takes away from life, but adds to it!

What if we were to have this perspective with all of the different noises in life?

And maybe it can be easier to say in church, when the kids are dismissed and it gets loud, that we are thankful for the noise. True. But I still like to remind our congregation that we are thrilled to be a noisy church, because the sound of those children getting excited to learn about Jesus is something to celebrate!

And the birds and the breeze are easy too, because they feel peaceful.

And here’s the challenge — even the annoying noises in life can be signs of life, health, and growth.

Construction, no matter what any opinions are regarding the necessity and quality, is always meant to make a situation better. Newer roads without potholes, sidewalks you don’t trip over, making travel safer and more enjoyable, the list goes on and on.

In Pennsylvania we have a joke or two about the seasons being fall, winter, and construction (and I read one the other day that our state flower is an orange cone). But what if — what if when we see the work being done we look at it as a path to beauty? What if when we hear the back up alarms of the trucks, and the pounding of asphalt, we listen with ears that hear a melody of growth?

Detours can be irritating. I never like them. I’m never thrilled to see those orange signs telling me to go a different way (because that extra two minutes can ruin my whole day). But isn’t that what God does at times? He sends us on a path we never imagined. But the destination is beautiful. And the destination makes the noise worth it. Thank God for the noise!