You’re alone. You’re sitting on a fluffy white comforter on your slightly unmade bed. There is morning light coming in the slightly open window. The first breath of Autumn in mixed lightly into the air. Your hair is still a tiny bit bed head. Leaning against the headboard you reach for a cherished book. The author joins you in your quiet moment. It’s quiet. Very quiet.
Is it quiet?
What is quiet? Do any of us truly know quiet? Does quiet even still exist in our day and age?
Oh how I relish a moment of peace and quiet. A bit of alone time. To pray. To read. To write. To think. To walk in nature. To have morning devotions. To write a letter. To ponder how to refashion a sweater and begin a the project… leisurely.
But now I ask myself…. ‘Have I ever known a true quiet?’
My pastor taught a message on being separate from the world today and music for a Godly generation. Many things stayed with me, many I’d thought about in my own life before, and one thing in particular I am thinking of now.
It was actually something one of the men of the body said afterwards in the comment and sharing time.
He was talking about taking time to work, think, read with out background music. This I do deliberately. What he said next was worth pondering.
Do we ever hear real quiet? Think about it. Right now, the fridge is humming gently. The light bulb is flickering. The fan blade is spinning. The clothes dryer is quietly tumbling. But all of this is impacting your subconscious to the point where you are mentally aware of it yet tuning it out. You think you’re experiencing quiet but in reality you are still experiencing static all around you. Your brain is processing static.
There was a time……
there was a time when you sat in a home. There was a candle burning. There was a quiet, no, noiseless cellar cooling your food. You were in an open field. You didn’t have neighbors crowded in around you or streetlights cutting through the dark of the night. You had quiet.
Be still and know that I am God.
There is a peace that comes when I take that walk. I tread lightly over the property in the early morning or as the sun sinks low and the only thing I hear is birds in their nest and frogs in the pond. All is quiet.
Now I strive for the true quiet. The quiet of mind. The stillness of thoughts. I tame my wild beating heart so flooded by plans, ideas, memories, regrets, hopes. All these things at one time. I try and try try again to hush my static filled soul even now as I am finally away from the modern noisy static of a culture where real quiet is unknown. I search for the soft tranquility that a farm wife must have felt on an evening walk down a path across her farm. She bends to pick a wildflower to take home to her little girl. Her mind and heart joining together for a moment of quiet, she lifts her prayer to the Lord.
And he hears.
Be still and know that he is God.
(famous painting called “Angelus” by Jean François Millet.)