Hearing God in Sheer Silence

Dear People of Christ Church,
I’ve been continuing to think about the sound of “sheer silence” that we heard God speaking in to the prophet Elijah in the book of Kings reading for Sunday. At vestry we always have a check in question for people to share something of themselves before we start our work. My question for this month was “Where have you heard God in sheer silence lately?”

Our answers were, I think, pretty typical for any group of 21st century people. Kissing a sleeping child goodnight is about as exquisite as any silence can be, and holy, too. There’s silence in listening for God to invite us into the next step in our lives, silence in being with a person who is dying, silence in being finished with a huge project, our anxieties stilled for a moment. We’re all doing our best to find God in stillness. The lovely thing, too, is that you are also all doing your best to be present with God in the noise. That came up in our Episcopal Church newcomer class as well—as people of faith we long for a deeper sense of connection with God and want to include God in more places in our lives, wherever we find ourselves and whatever we’re doing. Praying for others and finding ways to pray always—and all ways—is all part of a life of seeking God.

This message from the SSJE brothers’ daily “word” came through on Tuesday morning:
Silence invites slowing down, restoring sleep, savoring food, being attentive to self and the Divine. It’s a “healing gift” we intentionally foster to give and receive. Compared to the cacophony of the world, silence keeps catching us off-guard, inviting wonder at being so loved by God. —Br. Luke Ditewig

Brother Luke, I think, nails something here—that any time we can be more intentional and focused on what’s in front of us is a time for interior silence, no matter what is going on outside of us. Silence leaves us open to God, allowing us to close off our own busy-ness and sense of anxiety and responsibility. Silence isn’t the same as quiet. You can have an interior monologue that shouts all alone in an empty room; the background noise can take over: What do you have to do later? What’s the weather going to be like when you’re on vacation? What if your babysitter is late again? And on and on. Not silent. At the same time, you can have an enormous crowd around you shouting and laughing, while you take a single sip of the drink in front of you and feel an interior stillness that can’t be shaken.

Where’s your quiet? Where’s your noise? Where is God waiting in the silence under both of those?

Blessings,
Sara+

Miss the sermon on 6/19? It’s here!