Sometimes you just need a quiet space and a way to worship.
To be honest, I’ve been walking through one of those periods of spiritual quiet for some time, now. I’ve been straining to hear, craning my neck to see, but nothing comes.
I’ve kept my eyes and ears open, waiting for a glimpse or a whisper, but all I receive is a reverberating silence and my own words dissolving into thin air.
I would say that it has been a source of tension for me, and it has, but it has also been a calming type of quiet. Yes, I’ve tossed a few harshly worded prayers to heaven in moments of frustration, but I have also come to know the silence well and sometimes, if I look or listen hard enough, I can see a shadow or echo of presence, a ripple of something more real that I know moving beneath the surface.
I am not alone, and when I press into the silence, I understand that. I know that a friendship has reached a deeper level when I can simply sit in comfortable silence with the other person. Perhaps this kind of silence from God is similar.
When the silence comes, I become more alert. My senses are sharpened because I’m desperate to hear, to see, to feel. When this period of silence is over, I know I will appreciate my relationship with God in a fresh way. I’m not taking Him for granted.
I am simultaneously waiting in peaceful quiet and actively searching for God. I know I am not abandoned, yet I can’t wait to come to the place of meeting again.
Those frustrating moments I mentioned? They agitate, like sandpaper against the soul. My heart is a stone and the silence is scraping, smoothing my rough edges, wearing me down….
I went downstairs tonight and sat in front of a piano and played hymns. I played hymns and paid attention to their words and one hymn struck me. It is called “Lord, You Sometimes Speak in Wonders,” written my Christopher M. Idle, and these are the words: