Holy silence
By Bishop Leonard Fairley
My Grandma Gladys must have said it at least a million times or more: “Boy, get somewhere and sit still.”
I am old enough now to see the wisdom in her words. Stillness is a gift of time, a gift for reflection, renewal and restoration. If you want to hear what God might be saying, sit still and listen with all your mind, body and soul, letting go of distractions and senseless busyness that blinds the eye and blocks hearing.
Parker J. Palmer says it this way in his book with the long title, “A Hidden Wholeness: The Journey Toward an Undivided Life, Welcoming the Soul and Weaving Community in a Wounded World.”
He writes, “If we want to see a wild animal, the last thing we should do is go crashing through the woods, shouting for the creature to come out. But if we are willing to walk quietly into the woods and sit quietly for an hour at the base of a tree, the creature we are waiting for may emerge, and out the corner of an eye we will catch a glimpse of the precious wilderness we seek.”
Silence is holy, leaving room and space for God to speak, and to be heard. In 1 Kings 10, Elijah flees to Mount Horeb in fear, sustained by an angel. God speaks to him not in the earthquake, wind or fire but in a still small voice, restores him and gives him new assignments.
What if God’s new assignment for us as United Methodists in our current reality is found in the still, small voice of the creator? What if God is telling us to get somewhere and sit still while he shows us the path we are to walk?
Be still and know that God is God. Silence can be holy.
In a world that is filled with anxiety and uncertainty, we can use some holy silence—a little time off the grid—to let go of all the chaotic distractions that keep us from seeing and hearing Jesus clearly. I think we can all use a little bit of Grandma Gladys’ wisdom.
I wrote the following poem in memory of my Grandma Gladys. I hope she sees from heaven that I have learned and continue to learn to get somewhere and sit still while the Lord is working.
Silence can be holy.
The Storm is Passing Over
Boy come down out of that tree,
ain’t you got no sense to see a
cloud is coming up. Show respect!
The Lord is fixin’ to work.
Unplug that T.V. cut off
all those lights
can’t you hear the thunder roll?
Ain’t you got no ears to hear?
The Lord is fixin’ to work.
Hush, don’t even think about
opening your mouth or moving
a muscle till this cloud
done passed over this house.
The Lord is fixin’ to work.
Don’t you test me or the Lord!
Just because it’s dark in here, this
switch can still sting
so you better hush and
don’t start that playing.
The Lord is fixin’ to work.
When the non-believers dared to
speak, lightning struck from the
end of her switch with the flick
of ancient wrist. Moses is
an old Black woman.
Hush, I said when the Lord is
working, y’all got plenty time to run
your mouth and play when this
storm is done passed over.
The Lord is working now.
Silent hush falls over
The unbelievers huddled in the
darkened room, whispered
prayers from sacrilegious
hearts, ‘Lord, finish your work.’
No wimpy: “rain, rain, go away.”
Hush Lord, and finish your work,
ain’t you got no heart for children
who want to play?
Hush Lord, and pass over, finish
your work, there are mud puddles
and swollen creek waiting for
toes and feet to romp and stomp.
Please let the storm pass over.