I work at a library.

My title is early learning associate (aka, “the story time lady”), but while I do spend a lot of time with kids and kids’ books, part of my day is also spent on general library duties like shelving books, answering customers’ questions, offer recommendations for what someone should read next, or explaining how to use our public printers. Every morning before we open our doors, my co-workers and I buzz through the shelves pulling books that have been requested by customers at other branches. And every morning as I do this, I pop in an earbud and listen to a podcast episode or audiobook.

One morning earlier this month, I was dismayed to realize my earbuds had somehow disconnected from my phone. As they refused to play the mystery I was in the middle of, I groaned. “Don’t make me listen to my thoughts!” I said out loud. A co-worker passing by gave me a knowing smile as she tapped her own earbud to start up the tunes she works to each morning.

I’d made a joke about avoiding my own thoughts, but it wasn’t all that funny.

As I sat down to write this article a few days ago, I realized that my habit of hiding from emotional pain — which inevitably shows up uninvited should my mind have a single quiet moment — has reached a tipping point. It’s possible, I had to admit, that I’ve evaded my own emotions so thoroughly that I could no longer access them. My feelings and impressions, my questions and observations had been so deeply buried that thoughtful insight was proving difficult at best and, I feared, could be impossible at worst.

For a writer, this is disastrous. If I can’t peer inside my heart and mind to find a nugget of truth to share, I’ll never meet a deadline again. But this isn’t just an issue for writers. My apologies for being the bearer of bad news here, but I think this particular affliction is an issue for any of us who want to connect with God.

If we spend every waking moment filling our ears and hearts and minds – even with good things! – we aren’t leaving room for God to move within us. Don’t get me wrong. God can absolutely speak to us through music or books or other people’s words – and He does. But when it comes to that still small voice that comforts or moves us, well, we can hear it a lot easier when we take a moment to turn down the volume.

We see this with Elijah, the Old Testament prophet who ended up running for his life — right after faithfully serving the Lord through a season of bold ministry. Overwhelmed by fear, danger, and injustice, Elijah spiraled into deep despair. He even begged God to let him die. But instead of rebuke, God sent an angel who offered something surprisingly simple: a snack and a nap. After that, Elijah journeyed forty days and nights to a mountain, where God invited him to stand at the entrance of a cave — because that’s where he would encounter the presence of the Lord.

As Elijah stood in that cave, a hurricane passed by – but he didn’t hear God’s voice. Then an earthquake shook the ground – but he didn’t hear God’s voice. Next, a fire blazed – and still, Elijah did not hear God’s voice. It was only when the winds and flames faded away, when the ground settled, and when the volume was turned down that Elijah heard God.

Then He said, “Go out, and stand on the mountain before the Lord.” And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice.
1 Kings 19:11-12 NKJV

The Lord spoke in a still, small voice. Other translations call it a quiet voice or a gentle whisper. Regardless of the exact phrase, it was something that couldn’t have been heard over my favorite Spotify playlist, an audiobook or podcast playing in my earbuds, or the natural–and not-so-natural–disasters of the world.

The day that the Lord spoke directly to Elijah on that mountain, it happened when everything got quiet.

And Elijah isn’t the only one we see in the Bible slowing down and getting quiet in order to connect with the Lord and be refreshed. Jesus Himself spent time alone in the desert before beginning His ministry. During His time traveling and teaching, Jesus frequently escaped the noise and chaos to pray and hear from His Father.

Before selecting the twelve apostles, Jesus spent the night in prayer. (Luke 6:12-13)

When He heard the news of John the Baptist’s beheading, Jesus went away to grieve alone. (Matthew 4:10-13)

After teaching and feeding thousands of people, Jesus sought solitude to refresh His soul. (Mark 6:41-46)

If Jesus was intentional to seek out quiet, shouldn’t we?

This world is noisy. Our minds and lives are noisy. It can be tempting to let that noise insulate us from the hard things hiding in the corners of our hearts. Let’s resist the temptation and lean into all God has for us. There is great joy and refreshment waiting in the quiet.

How can you carve out a moment of quiet to be still and listen for God today?

 

Listen to Mary’s devotion here or on your favorite podcast app.

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