What We Wonder In the Stillness
What We Wonder In the Stillness
and how the questions we ask ourselves matter
Jennifer, my wife and co-executive director of Gather Ministries, brings us today a lovely piece about stillness and silence, both of which we deeply care about at Rapt.
What if I wrote you a letter — in this place of here and not here?
I might begin by saying that the house is quiet. No cars are on the road. It is dark outside my window and within this room. All lights are off, and I listen with all my senses.
My ears are just one way to hear, after all.
As a child, with my bedroom window facing the almond orchards, I listened early to the mourning doves’ calls. They perched on the creaking windmill a quarter mile from our house. What do I hear now, forty years later? I know my heart beats, but I don’t hear it–just the click of fingers on the keyboard, though I can block out that noise from my hearing, too.
What is the value of stillness? Of the absence of movement, of quiet? What heart posture is required for us to hear our true thoughts? Whose voice, after all, do we trust more than our own? And does stillness help us discern it? Can we determine our heart’s honesty from its dishonesty, its authenticity from its deception?
In the stillness, do you trust your voice more than any others? And should you? Do you find yourself trustworthy? In all circumstances? Are you?
In the stillness, when all is quiet around you and within you, to whom do you turn? Whose voice speaks when you are lonely and looking for familiarity? Whose voice reminds you you matter, life holds you, and you are not alone?
What is the value in listening, really listening, to what is going on within our interior life? Is it that we know ourselves more than any other? Is it that we value, in this world of productivity and proof, all that we cannot readily see? What is the evidence of our worth? For the interior voice to matter, must the exterior voice reflect what the interior voice tells it is true?
In the stillness, we ask ourselves: Who has made us who we are? What learning has shaped us? What experiences have directed our values? How much effort does it take for another person’s idea to penetrate our minds and hearts so that we differ from before?
And what is the worth of pondering all of this?
At my core, I crave quiet, stillness, the absence of movement, agitation, and turbulence. I am unsure if I have always sought it to the degree I do now, the pulling inward to face outward. But if there is constant noise around and within us, how do we know how to hear our hearts?
I am writing you a letter, and now there is the sound of one car that just went by on the road. I can imagine that the sound is produced not by a car but by an ocean wave, a rush of water crashing to shore. Let me be here and not here, my feet bare in the sand. It is night and dark and cool.
In the stillness, I can leave where I am and be here and someplace else. I can leave this quiet place, feel my feet in hiking boots, and hear the crunch of rocks underfoot as I climb a trail upwards, always upwards, until the trees grow smaller in the higher altitude and the sky’s blue stretches out to hold me. For it has no end, this blue makes me feel like I have no end, too.
Perhaps that is what the stillness does: it offers limitless possibilities — of time, space and thought. I love it when God reminds me, in the deeper knowing within me, how He is timeless, without limits and borders. And the stillness He creates ushers me into that place of infinitude, the craving for timelessness and unlimited possibilities realized.
I don’t want you to tell me something is impossible, for I won’t believe you. Not in the stillness. The doves are singing on the windmill, and I am climbing a mountain, and the sky outside remains dark. It might be morning, but what does it matter?
I am writing you a letter. I am here with you.
The Light Is
I move through the house opening windows,
morning air washing in washing me
and each room’s secrets, the stories of longing,
love-soaked journals
bound in string by bedside tables,
lamps dark and quiet,
washing clean my fear of being forgotten but not
the need to care,
to touch pillows and blankets, to make quiet beds
unslept in, wanted, and then
the yellow light in the foyer (I see you)
fills hope all on its own,
the color of sun’s warmth, of change, like day,
the diamond paneled glass
riveting and calm (come stand here in it)
the light like water all around.
Margaret Campbell wrote “Open Spaces for Solitude”
Sample ➼ “Hearing God” by Dallas Willard
Sample ➼ “Invitation to Solitude and Silence” by Ruth Haley Barton
We updated Rapt’s ‘Best of’ lists this week. Lots of new stuff!
Two books from modern-day spiritual giants have just been released: (1) “What Happens Next” by Max Lucado, a traveler’s guide through the End Times.
(2) “I Surrender All” by Priscilla Shirer — a fervent appeal and invitation to surrender everything to Jesus. Be the first to check them out!
Mart Green is the ministry investment officer for Hobby Lobby, a family business founded by his parents. He also serves on the company’s board.
David Bowden is an author and spoken word poet whose online videos have been viewed more than 10 million times.
Andrew Klavan is the author of internationally bestselling crime novels, including “True Crime,” “Don’t Say A Word,” and “Empire of Lies.”
Hannah Brencher is a writer, TED speaker and entrepreneur and has been featured in the Wall Street Journal, Oprah, Glamour, and USATODAY.com.
Pricelis Perreaux-Dominguez is the CEO of Full Collective, creator of the annual Sowers Summit and host of the “Being a Sanctuary” podcast.
P.S. Who should we interview next? Click here to let us know. And what new question would you like us to ask them? Click here to submit your suggestion.
“Psalm 46: 10 tells us there is a kind of knowing that comes in silence and not in words — but first we must be still.” —Ruth Haley Barton
Would you be willing to set aside some minutes for stillness and silence today?
It’s easy. Just find a place where you won’t be interrupted and invite the Holy Spirit to direct your thoughts. Pray against distraction, against fatigue, against confusion. Then, simply remain quiet for a length of time. Enjoying the few minutes of peace. When ready, begin listening for an inner voice — not with your ears but your heart.
Don’t try too hard. Don’t overthink it. If we want to hear, if we take the time to listen in silence, we’re sure to hear God at some point, in some way. He wants to speak.
And when and if you think you might have heard something, simply test it against Scripture. Ask: Does this idea or message fit within biblical principles? If it does, believe it. If it encourages action, be bold and take it.
We’re in this together, my friend. Have a great rest of your week.
Editor-in-Chief, Rapt Interviews & WiRE for Men
Co-executive Director, Gather Ministries
 | A guest post by
|