In my work as a priest and a therapist I have heard many people lament the absence of God’s voice in their lives. Given these experiences and my own frustration with God’s immense vocal absence, I’d venture to guess that most—if not all people—have felt this way.
We ask for direction in life. We plead for medical miracles. We cry out in anguish for the overwhelming suffering and endless inequities of this world.
And what comes back is silence.
In the Bible, Jesus himself says that if we knock the door will be opened and if we seek we’ll find what we’re looking for. And yet, in the spiritual life, it often feels like just the opposite is true. Our knocking receives no answer and our seeking finds no treasure.
And so we burnout in our quests for meaning and return to whatever distracts us from the longings of our soul.
But what if it’s in the silence—in God’s apparent failure to reply—that the answers to our soul’s deepest longings and confusions are to be found?
The longer I walk my spiritual path, the more I believe this to be true.
In the Hebrew Bible there is a story about a great prophet who is told to stand on the side of a mountain and wait because God is about to pass by. The prophet is fearful so he hides in a cave instead. A great wind rushes by, but God is not in the wind. Then a terrible earthquake erupts, but God is not in the earthquake. A fire breaks out, but God is not in the flames.
When the chaos ends, the prophet comes creeping out of his cave. Finally, when there is nothing but silence, God speaks.
I take this to mean God’s first language is silence.
Which, of course, is not ours.
But maybe silence should become our second language? After all, our world is so noisy, Lord knows we could use some. In the age of information, it’s not more voices we need, but ears.
Years ago, when I was a school teacher I had only one trick for getting rowdy teenagers to quiet down and listen when they felt chatty.
It wasn’t by raising my voice.
The secret was to stop talking altogether. If I stopped and stood still, the class would fall quiet. Sometimes it took a long while, but it always worked. Once we embraced the silence, our dialogue could begin. Teacher could speak. Student could listen. Conversation would bloom.
I don’t know what you need from God. I don’t know if you believe in God. I don’t know how you pray or whether or not you think prayer a worthwhile practice. What I know is the noise of this world makes it hard for me to hear from my soul. What I also know is the quieter I get, the more I seem to hear. And the more I hear, the more peaceful and powerful I feel.
And that is something I very much enjoy.
Yes, yes! I wrote a poem about this recently! I find that silence has been God's biggest, easiest, and most direct way to speak to me.
I very much enjoy the comments on silence with the examples of the prophet & teacher. Take care my friend.
gretchen henry