It usually
happens in midsummer.
That’s when
sensory overload forces me to withdraw.
The blare of
TV, ringing phones, pounding keyboards, car horns, barking dogs and the ambient
noise of senseless chatter begin to scream at me.
Then the opportunity
presents itself: a day off from the office, a lunch date cancellation, the
postponement of a writing deadline.
Immersed in
quiet, I realize how starved I am for soundlessness.
“The noise
of the world is preventing us from hearing the gentle voice within that always
counsels us,” writes Matthew Kelly in “The Rhythm of Life.” “We will begin to
hear this voice again only when we make a habit of withdrawing from the noise
of the world and immersing ourselves in silence.”
Those who
regularly lock themselves away from the deafening noise around us know that
silence is not the absence of sound but the opening of a gate in the mind that
is slammed shut most of the time. This portal leads to a place where chatter
ceases and ambient sounds fade. Here, we satisfy the holy longing.
One of my
favorite biblical passages is when God told the prophet Elijah to go outside
and stand on the mountain because He would be passing by. (1 Kings 19:11-12)
“A strong
and heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the Lord –
but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake – the
Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake there was fire – but the
Lord was not in the fire. After the fire, there was a still small voice.”
Like Elijah we
listen, longing to recognize the presence of the Divine. We yearn for God to
hear our prayers and pleas for help, but first, we must enter the silence.
I think that
God speaks to us in this way, even though He sometimes wants to shake the
ground under our feet and thunder, “Stop the busyness and listen! I am here...”
But instead
He whispers and offers us an invitation. When we accept and give Him our
undivided attention, we have an audience with our Creator, who knows us better
than we know ourselves.
