Rain comes in a sudden roar on the roof, and after weeks of silent skies and crisping vegetation, I find myself just listening. Listening.
I am smallest and most glad when I take the time to listen.
God enjoins silence in Psalm 46:10 — “Be still, and know that I am God” — and in Isaiah 41:1 — “Listen to me in silence, you coastlands; let the peoples renew their strength.”
For me it involves hushing all the internal voices, the ceaseless arguings and wonderings with which I engage myself, and then there is delicious rest.
David says that he calms and quiets his soul “like a weaned child with its mother” (Psalm 131:2), and I think of little children who fight to stay awake: fidgeting, irritable, so tired and so disinclined to surrender to sleep. But then, when they are made to be still — when you take such a child and hold him still and close — the struggling bodies relax, and there is rest.
David accomplishes this quiet through humility — not raising heart or eyes or mind to things too high for him (131:1) — and hoping in the Lord (131:3).
And this Lord in whom He hopes? This is the Lord of Psalm 46 who helps His people while mountains are moved into the sea, who brings desolations, ends wars, breaks the bow and shatters the spear. This is the Lord of Isaiah 40 and 41 who measures the oceans in the palm of His hand and weighs mountains on His scale, who knows and calls each star by its name, gives power to the faint, and promises to uphold His people with His righteous right hand.
Silence: think of the power of this God, and be small. Think of the love of this God, and be glad.
©2015 by Stacy Nott
Between Blue Rocks 