The Importance of Stillness and Silence in Connecting with God

John Cage listened to the noise of a busy city and decided he had had enough.

The composer created a unique piece of music. It is called 4’33”.

In the beginning, the composer raises his baton, and the pianist closes the lid to the piano.

Then, there is silence. No notes. No sounds. Nothing.

That goes on for 30 seconds.

Then slowly, you hear faint sounds you have heard before but probably not lately.

       The faint chirping of crickets on a still summer night.

       The distant bark of a dog.

       The sound of the drawing of a breath.

The silence continues for 4 minutes and 33 seconds, hence, the song’s name.

I got the same sense on September 12, 2001. After the World Trade Center fell to terrorists, Americans turned anxious. Everything shut down. No airplanes skirted clouds. Truckers parked trucks, and workers stayed home.

I got up in the morning and walked my dog. The silence struck me: no traffic, no planes, no sirens. The only sound was the gentle hum of air conditioning compressors.

The morning routine rushes me here and there. Church calendars are scrums of activities fighting for constant attendance. Meetings (none of which are memorable) tug at the soul. I have discovered I need more stillness than I take time for.

I yearn for a few moments to watch trees sway, hear crickets sing, and let sunshine bathe me with warmth.

William Cowper wrote:

A life all turbulence and noise may seem

To him that leads it wise and to be praised,

But wisdom is a pearl with most success

Sought in still waters.

In Mark 4, Jesus retreats across the Sea of Galilee. His weary body finds a hasty rest in the hold of the boat. He has left experienced fishermen on deck to sail the ship.

But then, the wind swept down the slopes of the surrounding hills stirring the sea into a violent froth. Winds mangled sails. Seas bit at the boat, dumping massive waves onto the deck.

The fishermen, who had weathered many a Galilee gale, now grew fearful. The storm was a killer.

They went below, thinking that, indeed, Jesus was concerned. He was motionless on the mat. Perturbed, they shook him awake and chided, “don’t you even care that we are dying?”

Wiping his eyes, he climbed the ladder to the deck, where stinging rain slapped his face. He gazed into the gale and said, “peace, be still.”

And the sea became glass, and the wind went limp.

He turned to his disciples and said, “Why are you afraid?”

I have discovered over the years through my own life that it is easier for Jesus to calm outer storms than the inner turbulence I sometimes feel. The winds and the waves cooperate.

The inner man must find calm in Christ when surrounded by outer bedlam. Without it, the exterior storm will swamp his life. You can’t hear God’s voice amid the din of daily life.

Stillness must wash across our lives in such times.

Mother Teresa observed

We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature trees, flowers, grass grow in silence; see the stars, the moon and sun, how they move in silence… the more we receive in silent prayer, the more we can give in our active life. We need silence to be able to touch souls. The essential thing is not what we say, but what God says to us and through us. All our words will be useless unless they come from within words which do not give the light of Christ increase the darkness.

In Psalm 46:10, David reminds us to:

Be still and know that I am God.

As the autumn leaf lets go of its last connection and settles to earth, we must let go of our dependence on our ability. God is God. I don’t have to handle the world. Listen to him and no one else.

No one wastes time when they take time for silence. It is an investment in a resilient spirit. Read scripture slowly. Absorb it. Sit quietly in prayer, not saying words but letting God listen to your heart. Watch trees, flowers, and squirrels.

In each moment of stillness, we find God drawing us closer. In each moment of hurry, we find ourselves letting go of him.

Be still. Listen to the sounds of silence. You might hear the whisper of God.