It’s late Friday afternoon. The sun is starting to dip low on the horizon. Right now, I’d like to kick my feet up on the ottoman and have a glass of wine. I’d love to sit and watch the sun descend from the sky into the earth that I see. The light will be gone. I’d love to watch this in silence, however, I’m BUSTED! I’m at the computer writing this blog post. The wine is still in the refrigerator. The silence, well, I’m relaxing to the sounds of Fernando Ortega on Pandora. No silence here for now.
Silence is my weakest area of worship. I use my body when I worship. I move my arms. I kneel. I sit. I whisper my prayers. I chant the psalms. Silence? Not really.
“Be Still and Know that I AM God.”
I listen for the heartbeat of silence. I have encountered it on occasion. When I walk my dog into the park, usually there is no one else but the two of us. I have heard silence then, but it’s usually broken by me, talking to Pixie as we walk. I struggle with the sound of silence.
“A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to be silent, and a time to speak.”
I am uncomfotable with silence. My mind does not thrive on the quiet, the silent. My mind moves in images and thoughts at a rapid pace. When I quiet my soul, I cannot quiet my mind. I must hear. I must experience with my senses. I live through sound and not the absense of it. I have not mastered the discipline of silence.
“Then the Lord said: Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord; the Lord will pass by. There was a strong and violent wind rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the Lord—but the Lord was not in the wind; after the wind, an earthquake—but the Lord was not in the earthquake; after the earthquake, fire—but the Lord was not in the fire; after the fire, a light silent sound. When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. A voice said to him, Why are you here, Elijah? “
1 Kings 19: 11-13
I listen for the small voice. Do I not hear it because there is no silence? The storm passes. The earthquake passes. The Lord remains, hidden, silent, in the Monstrance. A round host, alive, Jesus, our God and King. Our Savior waiting for us there. How does the God who keeps the universe running contain Himself in that small host, that which was once a piece of bread, now consecrated by the priest, now the living, Presence of God. Only in the silence of adoration do we see the Living Son of God, our King, the Great High Priest.
“Rising very early before dawn, he left and went off to a deserted place, where he prayed.”
Mark 1: 35
Mornings are better for me. Perhaps by rising early, before the day begins, before the light lights up the horizon, I will do better. I will find my Lord and God, and pray with Him in a deserted place. Where there are no cares, no worries, no one to judge, no one but Jesus. I look for Him. I see Him. The prompt said, “Look at Jesus beholding you and smiling.” He is. I see Him. I hear Him. I touch Him. I am encased in His Unending Love.