What if I told you there is a type of prayer without words? A prayer about being. With. Presence. Communion. Fellowship. What would you say?
While in seminary, I was once assigned to meet with a Spiritual Director. My classmates were guided through all (if not most) of the spiritual disciplines by their Directors throughout the semester; I wasn’t. I only practiced two: silence and solitude. I was absolutely, 100%, irritated. Listen, lady, I don’t even know what a “Spiritual Director” is! I’m paying you to teach me ALL the things!!! Yuck. I know.
Within five minutes of our first meeting it was like she saw straight through me and said, “Oh, sweet Rachel, I see straight through your doing and achieving and efficiency for God. It’s time to cease striving, and be with God.” I had never felt more seen or convicted by a stranger in such a short period of time. So, I did what the mature Christian would do and walked away saying to my people, “It was so weird. What even is a “Spiritual Director”?! Why am I paying for discipleship?!!!.” Again, I know.
A month passes where I try doing silence and solitude. Which was obviously the exact opposite of what she asked me to do. Then, God intervened like He always does. My professor said we were going to practice one spiritual discipline in every class for the rest of the semester. You guessed it. Silence.
My professor began to lead us through Lexico Divina, a prayerful meditation of Luke 15, the Prodigal Son. My guard immediately went up and I did the mature Christian thing again where I acted like it had no relevance to my life and whispered to my classmate, “Why are we doing this? What is this, group counseling? I’ll probably fall asleep!”. There it was again. The hiding. The truth is, I was scared. I knew God was nudging me towards silence and solitude, but I was afraid. Fearing when I got to the silence I’d be vulnerable.
Here’s the thing God is teaching me: the spiritual discipline of silence is more than a “conversation with God”, or, talking. Prayer is, after all, about connection and communion and presence. About being With. In scripture, we are invited to simply come and commune. No words. No fancy prayers. No petitions. Nada. Silence is so important that not only are we invited, but commanded to practice silence in passages we are all too familiar with:
“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be silent and a time to speak,” (Ecc. 3:1,7)
“be still before the lord and wait patiently for him.” (Ps. 37:7)
“be still, and know that I am God” (Ps. 46:10a)
Lately, I’ve been reeling over a lesser known passage on silence in 1 Kings.
When God appeared to Elijah after his suicidal depression and flight from Jezebel, God told Elijah to stand and wait for His presence to pass by. But God didn’t appear in ways He had in the past. He was not in the wind (like Job), an earthquake (at Mount Sinai with the Ten Commandments), or fire (like the burning bush with Moses). Instead, God revealed Himself to Elijah in “a sound of sheer silence.” (1 Kings 19:12). Imagine how surprising sheer silence was for Elijah! I think it’s sort of the same for us. We’re often expecting God to be comin’ in hot with miracles and good words, when more often than not, God speaks with silence and presence.
We live in a world of fear and noise. Revelations and BIG ministries. Constant notifications bombard us. And honestly, I think sometimes we like it that way. It’s easier to hide behind it. To control. Facing our inner dialogue and chaos is, well, scary.
But we have nothing to fear. We can simply be with God in love because of Christ, who, “was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.” (Isaiah 52:7).
Think about it. Jesus deliberately remained silent for us. The One who is the Word, who spoke the world into being by His Word, and holds the world together by His power, did not speak a word to spare His own life. He did not resist; He did not cry out to defend Himself against the false accusations; He did not avenge His enemies; He did not protest His innocence; He did not expose the lies of His accusers, and He did not appeal to a higher court. He didn’t remain silent because he was stoic or angry. He was silent because He was in submission to the Father’s will to lay on Him the iniquity of us all.
In the same way, when we submit our will to the finished work of the Cross, we are free to embrace the love of our Father without words.
When I imagine the practice of silence, I see a tender, treasured embrace of a parent holding their child in their arms. And I think of Psalm 132:2, “But I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child I am content.” A weaned child in this culture would have been somewhere around 3 or 4 – nearly impossible for a child that age to lay contently in the arms of a parent. Similarly, it may seem nearly impossible to lean into the silent embrace of God, but when we find our security in being His, we can.
Set a 2-minute timer on your phone and try it with me: When you begin to notice the noises around and in you (and you will), choose a word or image to recenter your focus on Christ. For example, imagine God the Father holding you in His arms and looking at you with His loving gaze or utter, “Abba, Father” under your breath.
Selah.
More resources on silence, stillness, and solitude: Celebration of Discipline by Richard Foster, Invitation to the Journey by Richard Mullhound, Silence and Solitude by Ruth Haley Barton, and Emotionally Healthy Spirituality by Peter Scazzero.