Finding God in the silence
did you know that you only find god in the silence?
God loves the silent spaces of our lives. That’s when he reveals himself.
Nothing is quieter and more peaceful than a big snowfall.
I love the moment you step outside your house during a snowfall when it’s completely silent–it’s like stepping into a mammoth snow-globe. It’s just you and the wonder of God’s creation, muffling out every sound but the stillness itself.
We’ve had two Christmas weather miracles in Richmond over the last week: two separate day-long snowfalls, separated by our normal melt. Each time, big fat flakes fell hard, piling inches deep the on trees and lawns. Outside furniture is draped in white. Birds are still. The serenity of a sparkled world commands the hush.
Rest. Peace. Silence.
I must go out into it and listen to the absence of sound.
Today a noiseless white world whispers, Come out. Listen to the music of perfect quiet.
I find snow pants, coats, gloves, and hats for my husband and baby granddaughter. It is our first time playing in the snow with her. We open the back door and watch her face as we step into a frosted backyard, snow falling. She’s rosy-cheeked and wide-eyed, bundled like a Michelin Man in her pink snowsuit, arms out, barely movable and extra-squishy. She blinks against the wet flakes landing on lashes.
I wonder if she’s thinking What happened to the yard? Where am I?
We jump into play. She indulges us with a few slides on her little slide, some pushes in her swing, and a photo shoot on the gazebo steps. She doesn’t seem to love being constrained by the Michelin Man suit. I make a snow angel, then lay her in the snow and move her arms up and down, making her mini angel next to my big one.
I wait and watch, expecting her excitement at the unexpected. She seems a little concerned.
Isn’t that how I respond when circumstances surprise me?
I pause and listen. No birds. No cars. Nothing but silent flakes and the whisper of God’s voice calling me into hope. He hovers in the stillness. I’m reminded that surprises are beautiful. A God-surprise should inspire awe and wonder.
I can always find god in the silence space.
Maybe God knows that eventually, I’ll stop looking around in anxiety and start looking around in wonder. The wonder reminds me of the power and faithfulness of God.
His faithfulness is remarkable. God always hovers in our wilderness moments. He speaks during times of forced quiet, when nature slows us down and we hover in spaces of wonder instead of loitering in spaces of certainty.
Whenever inhale in wonder, you exhale in worship.
You can’t help it. Wonder reminds us how great God is. The result is automatic. How can I keep from worshipping such a great God?
So that’s what I do on a quiet snow day with my granddaughter. I swish through the snow and worship the Snowmaker. I walk to the mailbox and worship the Word. I snap photos and worship the Artist. I hug my granddaughter and worship the Son.
Later in my day, God prompts a ministry friend in another state to call me for encouragement and support; she and her family are walking through an incredibly hard season personally and professionally. We talk for an hour and a half. I sit in my sunroom, surrounded on three sides by a white blanket of snow. The setting keeps God’s power and authority in complete awareness.
As I listen to my friend process her pain, I hear God’s voice speaking to me and through me.
This is how God works. He shows up in the painful places and reminds us that he is trustworthy. I can’t help but worship.
If we desire it, we’ll see God’s power everywhere: the sheer wonder of a world turned white or the miracle of a baby noticing Christmas lights or the random call of someone on a day when the world makes sense to me.
This month, I’m reading Isaiah in the mornings, noticing prophecies about the Messiah Jesus and the promise of Christmas.
Isaiah’s words are a wonderful reminder that Jesus’ birth–the most pivotal moment in human history and the catalyst of Jewish belief and practice–occurred after 400 years of spiritual wilderness. For fourteen generations, the Jews lived outside of God’s blessing and voice. They weren’t listening, so God wasn’t speaking.
And then came John the Baptist, a voice crying in the wilderness.
If you’re in a wilderness right now, it’s because God’s preparing for an incarnation.
God’s about to bring something new into existence, a new approach to his one and only mission: reconciliation to himself. How amazing that every difficult thing for us is still a stepping stone to the very thing God always intended to accomplish! Nothing is wasted in the spiritual realm.
I love The Messiah by Handel, especially at Christmas. I can’t read this verse from Isaiah without hearing a Messiah soloist’s voice singing dramatically:
“A voice of one calling: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way for the Lord make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill made low; the rough ground shall become level, the rugged places a plain. And the glory of the Lord will be revealed, and all people will see it together. For the mouth of the Lord has spoken.’” (Isa. 40:3-5)
The mouth of the Lord has spoken.
You will Hear God’s voice in the silence.
Get out there and listen.
Wonder.
Worship.
Believe.
Allow the wilderness to become a canvas for peace.
