The noise and demands of this world grind our souls and saturate our minds until life begins to feel like an endless stream of pointless events. We crave peace and quiet, but when we try to quiet ourselves, the noise inside is as loud as the noise outside. So we find a way to ease our minds and keep going. We find ways to numb that voice inside that we know we should listen to, but are afraid of, though we rarely ask why.
But every once in a while, something happens that shatters the noise we have grown so used to and forces us into a silence we can’t ignore.
Recently, I had just such a time. My brother had died of a vicious cancer, and my wife was off visiting her cousin. And at the end of the day, as I sat in an empty house, I was forced into a silence I could feel. The loss of my brother and the emptiness of my house conspired together to force me into a place where there were no distractions to hide behind. I was alone, keenly aware of my mortality, and helpless to change anything that mattered.
As I am describing this moment to you, I just noticed that my AI-powered editing software is sitting in the corner of my screen with a frowny face, trying to describe the “tone” of my writing. But AI will never understand what I am trying to describe today because it can’t. As I sat in that silence, alone and empty, I realized something.
I am not alone. Ever.
As the silence lingered that day, those empty and depressing voices began to die down as well, and I heard another voice. This voice wasn’t really saying much; it was just there. It was the same voice I heard—but didn’t hear—in the woods 46 years ago on another night of naked silence. It is the voice that is there whenever life overwhelms my false sense of understanding and control. And it begs a question.
Why do I only seek this voice when I am pushed, helpless, exhausted, frightened, or lost?
Too often, I—and I suspect we all—live sub-Christian lives unnecessarily. God is here, He has always been here, and He always will be. So why don’t I choose silence over noise more often? Is it self-will? Is it lingering guilt? Is it fear? Whatever it is, my noisy life is drowning out the one sound that can give my life meaning. The voice of God.
This week, instead of running from silence, let’s run to silence. Let’s go voluntarily instead of kicking and screaming all the way. God is waiting for us to stop, to listen, to take a true sabbath, and find rest in Him.
Psalm 46 God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth give way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling. Selah (Pause and let that soke in) There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns. The nations rage, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice, the earth melts. The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah Come, behold the works of the Lord, how he has brought desolations on the earth. He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear; he burns the chariots with fire. “Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah
Silence is not scary when you are alone with God. Make time for some silence this week. Make some time to listen.
And…Have a great week!
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