It’s very early in the morning – perhaps a little too early.
The house seems still and unusually quiet. The only sound is the ticking of a
clock on the wall. No other noises are heard…conversation between family
members, television newscast, the spinning of the washing machine or roar of
the vacuum cleaner, water running or coffee brewing. Even outside there are no
sounds of barks or meows, chirping or cooing, no garbage trucks hoisting trash
cans into the air to dump the contents, no diesel trucks driving by on the way
to the jobsite, no power tools or lawn equipment at work, no children playing…
All of these sounds will soon be part of the day. It’s
normal. We’ve grown accustomed to hearing them, come to expect them.
What seems unusual is the quiet. Sometimes we want to fill
the void with a favorite podcast or musical selection, the binging of our
phones as we text or search the web to locate a nearby eatery or answer a
burning question. If there is no one physically nearby with whom to converse,
we may pick up the cell phone or even walk outside to search for a neighbor,
anyone who will provide company and some chatter, even if the topic of
conversation is as mundane as the weather or what we ate for lunch.
Why is it we want to avoid the silence? What seems to be
frightening about the peaceful sounds of nothing? I confess sometimes when I’m
alone at home, I may turn on the television or music just for the noise. But
why is that? Could it be silence forces us to think, to ponder, to contemplate,
to engage in mental activity, or to face something we’ve been trying to avoid?
I thought about this the other day as I quoted to someone
the familiar words of Psalm 46:10, “Be still, and know that I am God…” (NKJV).
Sounds so simple, doesn’t it? But I have found it to be one of the most
challenging things to do.
Everything in me wants to do anything but “be still.” I feel
I must be doing and going and working and performing. To be still sounds
senseless, even wasting time and energy. What’s the point?
Oh, but that’s just it. It is when I am still I can stop
with all the busyness and responsibility and projects and duties…stop and be
still and know all the things I think are so important and all the things that
are vying for my attention are brought into a different light because I think
about God, know that He is God.
All my worries and concerns, my desires, my confusion, my
plans and preparation, my goals and dreams – everything is a little clearer
because God is God. He has not changed. He is still sovereign. Nothing escapes
His notice; nothing is impossible for Him. In a moment He can turn a situation
from dire to desirable. He can restore, redeem, relieve, rebuild; He can help,
and He can heal.
I wonder if so much of the noise can at times serve as a
distraction. Not always – after all, the gospel of Jesus Christ is conveyed
through words of testimony, sermons, dramatic interpretations, and songs.
Conversation between family members, friends, co-workers, neighbors, and
business associates is essential. Sounds represent progress – building and
growing and changing. And there is nothing that makes me smile like the laughter
of children, the loving words of my family, the warm chatter of close friends.
But sometimes (truthfully, many times during the course of a
day), I long for the sound of silence, the blaring quiet that speaks peace to
my soul when I remember no matter what is going on, in spite of heartache and
pain and losses, disaster and confusion and grief, even though all around me
seems to be crumbling and changing, out of my control, HE is still God. That
reality comes when I am still before Him.