Then the Lord said, "Go outside and stand on the mountain before the Lord; the Lord will be passing by." A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the Lord--but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake--but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake there was fire--but the Lord was not in the fire. After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound. When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak...." (1 Kings 19:11-13)
We are not horse whisperers. We are the ones whispered to. The horse's voice is a tiny sound, like a rustling of leaves.
Not always, of course. When Bridget slams her butt up against me to make me scratch her, that's more like a shout than a whisper. But there are other times ... when Gus crept up to me yesterday and mentioned that he had a moment to spare if I would like to work on his foot. He spoke in a very soft little voice which seemed to rise up from a great depth to my normally deaf ears.
And when you hear the horse's voice, it's as if there are a thousand other whispering voices behind his, a world of murmuring creatures waiting to be heard.
For creation awaits with eager expectation the revelation of the children of God; for creation was made subject to futility, not of its own accord but because of the one who subjected it, in hope that creation itself would be set free from slavery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now[.] (Romans 8:19-22)