The Quiet

As of noon yesterday all of our children have left to go to their other parent’s. The quiet resounds. Time alone once anticipated now intrudes and bothers. Two whole hours and I can barely stand it. Sharing children is part of the unnatural aftermath of divorce, life oscillating between a roar and a whisper. 

I hide from the whisper. 

I long to fill the silence, to ignore its very existence, yet in the quiet is when the resolution comes. It’s when the Maker speaks His truth. 

What is there to be gained by filling it with meaninglessness? I know what He has for me, yet I push away instead of drawing closer. 

Do I fear what He might say? Do I not believe what He says? 

Or do I fear being alone and attempt to fill the silence to mask its existence? 

Trading the voice of Truth for a lie, I cling to the fear that I am abandoned. Unloved. Alone. In the quiet, I must face my own weakness. 

But the Father is asks me to let go. Release the hurt, fears, pain, lies, and shortcomings and accept His identity—to trade my ashes for beauty, my fear for His strength. 

The LORD said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by.” Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (I Kings 19:11-13) 

It’s in the quiet that he calls to us. 

Soccer practice, church meetings, work, club meetings, committee meetings, classes, social events—we pack every single minute of every single day full of noise and busyness. Filling the quiet is our specialty. Lulls in conversation create such discomfort, we grasp at straws to avoid the silence with questions as to the weather or one’s health. 

Maybe it’s because we’re afraid. We’re afraid to answer the question, “What are you doing here?” Maybe if we just keep filling up our emptiness with more and more busyness we can avoid having to answer that question. 

Yet it is our Creator who holds the answer to that question, “What are you doing here?” He is the one who tells us our story. And He urges us to rest, to pause from the busy schedule and all of our labors and the noise and stress that goes along with it. 

To listen. 

And to hear His voice. 

To pray and to worship. 

So we can be renewed.