10 AM, Sunday.
The stillness, the silence, it’s palpable. Greatest silence I can remember in this place.
Solitude makes an intrinsic component. And clear all-blue sky. And absence of breeze out there, whitened pine boughs moving not even a quiver. Blue-shadowed snow stands trackless and smoothed by past wind drifts. Even the sparkles sprinkled over its sculptings stand still in the light. Traffic has been nearly nil. The roads are ice-blotched, the air deep frozen. Humankind must all be curled under covers inside walls, or hunched under shawls or sweaters, silently sipping hot mugs.
But there is more to this hush than that. I’m sure.
It is mesmerizing. And I am so blessed.
I have done little, very little, so as to gather the stillness into my arms, into my soul. If only it can stretch out longer. Maybe it can?…
I’ll write no more right now. For that itself is a sort of talk, of non-silence.
To savor: Silence till “Sext”—well, according to daylight savings time, at least.
He’s back from the prison, where he fill-in preached at the Protestant inmates’ service. We’ve both already stilled all the way into a before-dinner nap. Now we sit at table, watching steam rise from comfort of pot roast with carrots, potatoes… plain winter warm food. And between the clicking of the forks I ask him, how he might have been aware of the working of God in the morning.
(For “aware” seems to be emerging as my “one word” for this year.)
And immediately he says, The responsiveness. The silence.
Even the CO’s (correctional officers) in the back of the room and those back-seat-takers usually chatting amid the sermon, all were “quiet as a mouse,” he said. Stiller than ever.
He had time for a sort of very personal invitation at the end of his talk, for individual hearts to relate with God alone, him not even looking up for any hands or nods—or tears. But he knew somehow that things were happening… because of the depth of silence… and because he’d been standing there praying for God’s moving, if only in one human heart.
Which matched exactly what I’d been moved to pray back at home!
So still here. So still way up there. Prayer in sync, without our knowing…
A true Holy Hush it surely must have been—which can come only from God Himself.
So thankful I am that we ourselves were still enough to hear it, feel it.
Truly, God’s Spirit moves in silence. Truly, His universe-big voice, in speaking to us, is still and small. Our part is but to still ourselves and listen.
“The LORD was not in the wind; … the LORD was not in the earthquake; … the LORD was not in the fire; …[but] after the fire a still small voice …” -1 Kings 19:11-13
18 thoughts on “Sh-h-h. Things Happen in a Holy Hush.”
This is so beautiful. Beautiful words. I amazed at how often God works in hearts using different circumstances to speak the same thing. What an amazing thing to hold onto as we start our week. God is moving. Have a wonderful week!!
Sarah, that’s what I hoped would be seen, that amazing way that God works things together in human hearts, and moves as He does. It was kinda awesome!
So nice to meet you. I’m thankful for the linkup at Inspire Me Mondays that brought us together. Blessings on your week!
Oh, Sylvia…this truly IS beautiful. Thank you for sharing. And visiting me…we ARE on the same page. So thankful for God’s hand at work!
What a happy Monday morning! Happy that you stopped back over here. Sharing your thanks. Rich blessings to you!
Oh this is such a good post…so keenly written I felt the hush as you describe it. Praying some soul at the prison service was because a new creature in Christ. So thankful for those who will minister to those in prison.
Thanks for encouragement, Betty, and especially for prayer. It’s amazing what can happen with it, isn’t it? That ministry really blesses my husband—I think as much as it blesses the inmates—and I, in turn, am blessed.
How beautiful when two as one experience those blessed moments when God is at work in the stillness. Thank you for sharing your lovely thoughts with us here at “tell Me a Story.”
Yes, it is, Hazel. Kinda takes my breath away sometimes. When my husband was in Africa on short-term mission and I back here praying, we kept journals–he of events unfolding, and I of prayers I and a few others prayed. It was amazing afterward to compare the prayers with the needs that had come up in the events, especially since we had not been in communication at the time. God’s hand evident.
I had a few prison connections re: sharing the Lord, spreading the Word around and about. Thank you. I know it was just one bit of your writing, not all, but this jumped out at me quickly. Thanks for sharing.
It’s a very interesting ministry, isn’t it Joanne? I’m involved only obliquely, as in the prayer above. But oh, the things I’ve heard about and seen—huge testimony to the presence of God, the God of the 2nd chance, and the 5th, and the 10th, the God of real transformation!
This is lovely, Sylvia! 🙂
Thank you, Lyli, for your visit and kindly comment. Blessings to you.
Such a beautiful post. And, yes, the writing in the silence – I can relate to how that isn’t quite stilling fully. And when we put away the books and the pens and the keypads and sit, we hear. Thank you for this invitation, reminder and testimony. Lovely.
I think I often forget how “noisy” I can be making my brain by all those words pouring out on paper. Yes, there’s a time when it’s good to still that, too. Thanks so much for visiting and commenting.
Beautiful post & one of my favorite verses! So grateful for His small still voice. May we make time to be still & listen. Have a blessed Sunday!
Just makes sense that we need to be quiet to “hear,” doesn’t it, Joanne? And yet it’s so easy to forget. Glad you stopped by! Thanks for commenting.
This just stills me, friend. I have no words.
That’s sweet, Sandy. God bless…
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