Silence is more than Golden

#Fenelon #100DaysintheSecretPlace #OolaFaith #silence

"A humility that is still talkative does not run very deep."

Fenelon

Silence. So simple. Stop talking.

But is that the definition of silence? I tend to hear the noise in my mind when surrounded by silence.

But maybe that's the point. It's difficult to hear the inner chatter, negativity, judgements, and triviality in the busyness of our day.

For years I did everything in my power to stay as far away from silence as from aloneness. Both were too self-revelatory. And by that I mean they shone light into very hidden, locked up, hurts, insecurities, and yes I'll say it, sin.

Busyness is a barrier to self-assessment. When running from one responsibility to the next, one meeting, one child, one fill-in-the-blank, it's so easy to feel important and needed.

Looking back I see my need of belonging and relevance intertwined in past pursuits.

In some ways it still is. I suppose it may always be to a certain extent. After all, belonging and relevance, are basic human needs.

We may be able to hide in busyness for a season, but eventually it changes.

Children grow up, health issues arise, and circumstances, out of our control, force the world to stop.

My world has stopped, shifted and even changed the direction of spin during the last fifteen years. Children are grown. I've suffered debilitating chronic pain. Tragedy has etched my soul.

And I've learned to be silent; inside and out.

I don't blame God for the physical, emotional, and spiritual pain I've endured. But I will praise Him for gathering it all and using it for my good.

During the years of chronic sciatic pain, nerve damage, surgeries, and lengthy recoveries, He never left me.

During the darkest night of my soul, when I was falsely accused, emotionally stripped and spiritually whipped, He never left me.

During the trauma of recent years, as I saw my 'normal' evaporate and have awakened to living a different reality, He never left me.

I've been in and out of the storm shelter for the past fifteen years.

Most of it alone. In darkness. In silence. And in some way bound.

Looking back, I can see that about half-way through each episode, the inner noise ceased. The 'what if's', 'If only's', and 'But's' had their say and then fell to the floor. The next phase was teeth-gritting, brow-scrunching, fingers-in-my-ears, pouting anger. Then, eventually, deep breathing, eyes shifting up and arms open to receive, what God had for me.

It was then I heard His words. His unending love broke the silence. His eternal faithfulness healed my soul. His gathering every pain and making it beautiful, covered my nakedness. Peace washed away all sorrow, loss, hurt, and self-centred need.

Learning to be silent inwardly is a life long journey. However, once you experience the peace that is beyond human comprehension, a lifetime is not too long to pursue it.