My assignment in our church congregation had changed from teaching children music to scouting, and I had been a scout leader for about six months. My wife, Donna, was the new leader of the children’s organization. One Sunday, she asked me to assist her.

“I want you to come help me with something I am trying to teach the children,” she said.

When I asked her what my assignment would be, she was vague about it, telling me she would let me know when the time came. I was always happy to help with the children, so I readily agreed, even though I didn’t know what I would be doing.

When I walked into the primary, the children got excited. They thought I was there to teach music. I had substituted for their current music teacher whenever she needed a replacement, but Donna quickly told the children that I was there for a different purpose. That made the children curious, but no more curious than I was.

When it came time for Donna to do her learning activity, she asked for a volunteer and chose Katie, one of the oldest girls. She then had someone take Katie out into the hall and blindfold her.

While Katie was in the hall, of the other forty-five people left in the room, Donna chose three, two children and an adult, to play the part of good people. She then told the other forty-two that they were to play the part of evil people. She marked a place in the room and said that was heaven, and those chosen to play good people were to help lead Katie there. Those chosen to play evil people were to lead her anywhere else. But no one could touch her.

Katie was brought in, and soon, the overwhelming noise from those chosen for the evil part had her bumping into walls and tripping over things. I felt bad for her but still didn’t know my assignment. Finally, when Katie was about as far away from the designated heaven spot as possible, my wife said I could stand in that spot and direct Katie there, but only in a whisper.

I thought, “This is impossible. There is no way she will hear me through all the noise from the opposite end of the room.”

But I had an advantage I had forgotten about. When the children would have a lesson like this where they were all excited, and then time was turned to me to teach music, sometimes it was impossible to get them to calm down for singing practice. A suggestion people gave me was to do a “wiggle song,” which was an active one like “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes.” They said it would take out the wiggles. But that never worked for me. They just grew wigglier.

But one day, as the leaders did their learning activity, I thought of a story that would blend with it. As I tried to get the children calmed down to sing, I said, “Let me tell you a story.” Most of the children hurried to their seats. I continued to use this technique, but I found if I whispered, every child rushed to their seats and sat quietly so they could hear the story.

So, I no sooner had whispered, “Katie, listen to me,” then Katie spun around to face me. All the other children also rushed to their seats, ready for a story. It took a second for Donna to get them back to their exuberance in trying to influence Katie’s direction, but it was to no avail. In all that noise, once Katie locked onto my voice, she followed my directions no matter how softly I spoke or how loudly everyone else did.

After Katie was safely at the heaven spot and the blindfold was removed, Donna asked her, “Why did you pick Daris’s voice out from all the others, especially when he was so quiet?” Before Katie could answer, another girl did. “Because we trust him, duh,” the girl said.

Donna then taught the children that God tries to reach out to us, but his voice is like a whisper compared to the noise and influence of the world around us. “We need to learn to hear his promptings and trust Him,” she said.

As I left that day, I felt I had also learned something else. It is a wonderful thing to know that children trust you.