“Be still and know that I am God.”
— Psalm 46:10
The only way I know to be still
is to be still.
So I hush my way into stillness. Yet it’s hard to find my way there.
Because the noise — this noise — it starts before bare toes touch bedroom floor. This is the soundtrack of my day:
alarm clock singing
front door, knocking
“Are you there, God?” I ask as zippers and lost dimes rap a percussive beat in my dryer.
“Are you there, God?” I ask as the phone rings again, and the dishwasher hums, and the newscaster heeds his warnings: “The U.S. may see a shortage in the flu vaccine.” … “Rampant government corruption may derail the fight against the Taliban.” …
So I crank up praise-music louder, listening for Him in the song.
Then I dial a friend’s number to ask what she thinks,
and I listen for Him in her voice.
And I mouse-click, click, click
through this email,
and that devotional,
and her blog
because I’m seeking Him in their words.
And do I find Him in the song, with the friend, or on the Christ follower’s blog? Many times, yes. I even find him in the everyday music of laundry baskets, breakfast dishes and swishing brooms.
Sometimes I am Elijah — listening for Him in the noise, when the Lord speaks in the silence.
The LORD said to Elijah, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by.” — 1 Kings 19:11
Elijah listened: Are you there, God?
Elijah watched as a powerful wind tore mountains apart. But God was not in the wind.
He watched as an earthquake shook below. But God was not in the earthquake.
He saw a fire blaze all around, flames licking and crackling and consuming. But God was not in the fire.
Then came this: A gentle whisper.
Yahweh comes in whispers. I need to hush the rush so I may hear his powerfully quiet voice.
To find the stillness, I need to unplug.
To be still,
I must still.
I roll my chair away from the computer and walk through rooms to darken them. I silence the newscaster, mute the washroom, quiet the sinks. I even pause the worship music.
One sound remains in a quiet house: shuffling feet toward an old chair in the corner. I light the candle; wick sizzles.
I lean back into creaky chair and enter The Hush. Weary body wraps itself in a purple prayer shawl — this handmade gift from a friend.
I close my eyes, and listen. This is the only way I know how.
And after the wind and earthquakes and fires of days, I find Him in the whisper. His Spirit breathes words into my spirit. He says: “You can finally hear me.”
And I answer: “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening…”
Photo: A gift, this little cross with a reminder of a big GOD. (Thank you, Tracy.) It sits atop Grandma Taylor’s hymnal in my prayer corner, where I start and end my day in The Hush, wrapped in handmade prayer shawl. (Thank you, Michelle.)
Each Wednesday, I join Ann Voskamp at “Walk With Him Wednesday.” Together, we explore spiritual practices that draw us closer to God’s heart. This week, we consider how we can slow, how we can “be still.” Would you consider sharing your thoughts on how you still?
God’s timing makes me smile. Two days ago, I posted about the need to be still on this Iowa farm. And three nights ago, Lydia picked Psalm 46:10 as her memory verse for the week: “Be Still and know that I am God.”
Persistent, isn’t He?
Drift Me by L.L. at Seedlings in Stone
From the Rush to a Hush by Ann Kroeker