On Behalf of Silence
Silence is a luxury. I didn’t used to think so, back when I was single and had plenty of opportunity for it. Back then, silence was something I mostly wanted out of. It was something I sought to break, to fill up with sound. So much so that I did what most of us, here in this culture, in this time, do. I filled the silence with television and movies and music, even if I wasn’t really listening to them.
I don’t think our culture handles silence well.
Now, silence is something I crave. Not just silence around me, but my own silence. The opportunity not to speak – just to be. Silence is restful.
I have a handful of teenagers in my life, and every time I see them, no matter where we are or what we’re doing, they’re wired, meaning they have some kind of device in their ears playing music or they’re watching something on a phone or an iPad (usually with earphones). Even when they’re with a group of people. Even at the dinner table. Even at the mall. Everywhere. They go to sleep at night this way.
It’s curious to me, this seemingly absolute need to have music or media of some kind breaking the silence every moment.
A few weeks ago, we visited Arlington National Cemetery, which is probably the most beautiful cemetery I’ve ever seen. It’s so lovely, with its steeply sloping hills and old trees, with its symmetrical rows of identical white tombstones, that you can almost forget it’s a cemetery. Since John F. Kennedy is buried there, and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is there, it also tends to be full of tourists.
As we walked around, up hills and down them, I saw them everywhere: teenagers with their earphones in.
We watched the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, and as we left, making our way down the tree-lined lane that leads to the tomb, the wind was rustling through the boughs of the pines on the hill, making that particular rushing sound that only wind and pine trees make together. A pair of birds were singing to each other, taking turns. We paused for a moment to take it all in, both the beauty of the landscape and the sounds of nature. We ourselves were silent. And in that moment, surrounded by God’s creation, I felt like His spirit just swooped in and filled up my soul.
In that moment, I thought about how much today’s young people, often referred to as the Millenials or as Generation Y, must be missing out on by avoiding silence. By being constantly plugged in. I grieve a little for them, for what could ultimately end up missing from their lives.
Because we were meant to be silent sometimes. We were meant to hear the world around us.
I love music too, and a lot of music stirs me to worship and to feel things deeply. I love movies and television shows because I love stories. These are good things most of the time, but sometimes, you can have too much of a good thing – if it causes you to miss out on other good things. Things like the sound of your own voice in your head, interaction with the people around you, and the deep peace and beauty that often comes with silence.
My favorite time of day is the time I’m spending right now – when the sun is just barely up and the house is silent but for the sound of my fingers on the keys of my laptop, the hum of the refrigerator, the faint sound of car doors opening and shutting outside as my neighbors leave for work. In spite of the sounds, it still feels like silence. Somehow, I breathe more deeply and settle into myself better in these early morning hours than any other time. It’s good time to hear from God and to recognize the ways He’s been speaking to me in the midst of all the noise of the other 23 hours of my days. It’s good time to think, good time to reflect, good time to get to know myself better.
Oddly enough, silence isn’t always about being without sound. Sometimes it is about not choosing the sound that fills our ears. Sometimes it is about our own silence – and what we are able to hear when we get quiet.
I think this is why I like long walks, the kind where I don’t talk or listen to music. I just take in the world around me and open the door to God. He always shows up.
In Matthew 6:6, Jesus says, “When you pray, go away by yourself, shut the door behind you, and pray to your Father in private.”
The silence involved here is implicit, understood. It’s clear that in order to really talk to God, sometimes we just need to get quiet, leave the noise behind, so we can really hear.
What about you? Are you seeking out regular silence? How might the noise of life be causing you to miss out on what God wants to say to you?
Blessings,
