Quiet Time
Outside, the landscape is locked in place by snow and ice. No movement in the pre-dawn darkness. No chirping birds. Even the Shenandoah Valley’s constant breeze has paused, giving the bare branches of the trees a rest from their rattling. All is quiet.
Still.
Tucked into the corner of our sofa, listening to the crackle of my candle’s wooden wick, I am, too. But the quiet that has settled over me is about more than lack of movement. It is the current of my thoughts slowing from a torrent to a trickle. Regrets about the past and worries about the future dissipate as I abide in this moment and wait.
“Speak, Lᴏʀᴅ, for Your servant is listening.”
A priest named Eli told his student, a boy named Samuel, to respond to God with that statement the next time he heard the Lord’s voice. (For the whole story, turn to 1 Samuel 3.)
Eli didn’t tell him to prepare a list of questions or prayer requests. He didn’t tell him to light some more lamps or make a sacrifice.
Instead, Samuel was told to do a very hard thing. He had to listen.
At least, it’s a very hard thing for me. Listening means silencing my continuous mental chatter. When I pray the words imparted to Samuel, I set aside my own thoughts and open my mind and heart to God’s.
Although that sounds quite simple, as if I were sticking miscellany into a closet, it is not. I might as well have a pitchfork-carrying, torch-bearing mob living in my head, storming my castle of tranquility even as I hastily build it, stone upon stone.
“As I build it…” But…I can’t. I have groped and stumbled toward the realization that just as I can’t strive for sleep, attaining rest through my own mighty efforts, I can’t achieve the stilling of my mind. I can only receive it. From the One Who wants to talk to me.
God makes it possible for me to give Him the gift of my full attention. I believe this not only because I couldn’t summon such focus otherwise, but because every beautiful thing has its origin in Him.
Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. James 1:17 (ESV)
Psalm 46:10 has burrowed deep into my heart in recent years.
“Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!” (ESV)
But in the last few months I have been struck by the connection between the commands. Being still—quiet, attentive, reverent—is necessary for knowing. Developing an intimate relationship with God can’t be another action item on a multi-task merry-go-round.
I must stop. Listen. Wait.
Here I am, Lord. Your servant is listening. I set my heart on You—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Calm my turbulent mind and clear away anything that might come between us. I wait for Your voice. Let it be so.
The end of a winter’s day
