Years ago, in the far north of Yukon, we had long stretches of silence.
Long drives. Long nights. Vast distances.
When we closed the road for a blizzard, we had to “sweep” the entire stretch, all the way to the Northwest Territories border in the Richardson mountains, just to make sure no one was stranded before shutting it down.
There were no streetlights. No light pollution. On clear nights, the sky felt close enough to touch.
The northern lights moved like living things. The Milky Way didn’t just appear; it spilled across the darkness.
It was breathtaking.
And whether we meant to or not, those skies pulled the conversation toward deeper things.
Where did this all come from? What does it mean? Is there something… or Someone… behind it?
Psalm 19 begins here:
“The heavens declare the glory of God; The skies proclaim the work of His hands.”
Before anyone opens a Bible… before anyone forms an argument… Creation is already speaking.
The Scriptures That Shape
But the Psalm does not stay in the sky.
It moves closer.
From what we can see… to what God has said.
In those years, I had a mentor, a rancher in the Rocky Mountains. He is still going strong at more than ninety years old.
Every morning, he would sit at the table and read a portion of Scripture.
Quietly. Steadily. Without fanfare.
My parents had done the same when I was growing up, reading the Bible at breakfast. And somewhere along the way, those habits became mine. This, I began to realize, is how adult Christians live.
At first, my entire “testimony” at work was simple:
I had a Bible beside my bed.
That was it.
But over time, something began to shift.
Conversations opened. Questions surfaced.
I discovered teaching tapes and started learning how to actually understand what I was reading. The Word of God was no longer just present.
It was shaping me.
Psalm 19 says it this way:
The law of the Lord is perfect, restoring the soul. The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple…
God does not only speak through creation.
He speaks with clarity through His Word.
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My friend, mentor, and hero, Hank Loewen.
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The Secret Heart
And then Psalm 19 goes somewhere even deeper.
Not just the skies above us. Not just the Word before us.
But right to our heart within us.
That was where my real battle was.
In those days, I smoked two to three packs of cigarettes a day. Everyone did. We smoked in the trucks, in the restaurant, everywhere. It was simply part of life.
And I could not quit.
I tried. I failed. I tried and failed again.
Some of my friends would tease me. “Real Christians don’t smoke,” they would say, shaking their heads.
I did not believe them. But I still wanted to quit—for my health, and for my testimony.
So I did what I knew to do.
I prayed.
One day, I was sitting at my desk, reading my Bible and smoking at the same time, and I came across Jesus’ words about worry. That we can’t add a single hour to our lives by worrying.
And something clicked.
I realized I had two problems.
I was smoking…
And I was worrying about smoking.
And in that moment, I made a simple decision:
“I’m going to stop worrying. Less sin.”
Not because I had solved the problem. But because I trusted God could.
And something unexpected happened.
Peace came.
Not willpower. Not pressure. Peace.
A few weeks later, I had another quiet realization:
I didn’t need to smoke anymore.
No dramatic moment. No big announcement. Just an awareness.
So I finished the cigarette in my hand… and put it out.
And that was it.
I carried a pack with me for a while—just in case. But I never needed them anymore.
God had done something in the secret place that I could not do on my own.
Psalm 19 ends with this kind of prayer:
“Who can discern their own errors? Forgive my hidden faults… Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in Your sight…”
That’s where real formation happens. Not just in what we see. Not just in what we learn. But in what God does quietly within us.
1983 – Here is the desk in my hotel room at Eagle Plains, where I learned I didn’t have to worry about smoking.
1986 – My desk in Mule Creek camp, three years later.
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Three Voices That Form a Life
Looking back, I can see it more clearly now.
There were three voices shaping me in those years:
The skies — reminding me that God is real and greater than I can grasp
The Scriptures — teaching me what is true and how to live
The secret heart — where God was patiently transforming me from the inside out
David saw the same pattern long ago.
And he followed it all the way to the end:
Not to information… but to surrender.
The Advantage We Have
There’s one more thing worth pondering. David prayed these prayers. And yet, his story reminds us that even great leaders can drift.
So what advantage do we have?
Two things.
First, we have the full story.
Not just David’s victories, but his failures.
Not just David’s story, but many others.
Not just isolated moments, but the whole arc.
And second, we have something David longed for:
The Holy Spirit living within us.
Jesus said that even the least in the Kingdom would experience something greater than what came before.
Not because we are stronger, but because God is nearer.
The Road for Today
Here’s a simple invitation this week:
Pay attention to the voices shaping your life.
What are you allowing to define reality?
What is forming your thinking?
What is happening beneath the surface of your heart?
Don’t rush past these questions.
Bring them to God.
Let Him speak through what He has made…
through what He has said…
and through what He is doing within you.
A Quiet Ending
When the skies go dark and the questions feel close, there is still a voice.
Steady. Patient. Near.
Calling you, not just to see… not just to understand… but to be formed.
