The training exercise for reflecting on the goodness of God is silence. For a borderline extrovert, multi-tasking ball of distraction like me, silence ihas not been seen as a blessing and benefit. When I was a kid, being sent to my room was punishment. Losing my radio or television privileges was punishment. I recharge in noise—or, perhaps, I hide in noise.
I have begun to think that my frenetic nature gives my fears and flaws their hiding place. In the distraction, I find a pseudo-comfort—a false peace. So when I hear: "Be still and know that I am God," I want to counteroffer and ask God if I can meet him in the storm, walk to him on rolling waves, come to him in chaos…and sometimes he meets me in just those places. Still—
Still, there waits a better place to meet God. God waits in the silence of the early morning. God waits in the night, offering a better bedtime blessing than Leno and Letterman can muster. God waits in the solitude of wilderness, the quietness of isolation. This is a very difficult discipline for me because in silence and solitary communion with God, the persons I fear most show up-Satan and myself. Satan shows up to accuse me. I show up with all of my imperfections-the ways I have disappointed myself and others laid bare. The noise of silence is composed of the sound of my busyness and the sound of the evil prosecuting attorney railing against me. Is it noisy like that for you, too?
So my wife Annette tells me to wait in faith through the noise. It will diminish. God will wait for it to subside. Satan will withdraw. The din of the world will quieten. But, she says, the noise comes first. To get to the silence, we must sit with and outlast the noise in faith until the rowdiness of life stills and the devil's charges are overwhelmed by the assurance of grace. It will come. Let us go to the silence.
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