From the Rector…
Never underestimate the value of silence.
Last Friday, I ruptured my eardrum—in the least dramatic way possible. I knew it had happened immediately, thanks to the sudden ringing and pressure in my ear. It wasn’t painful, just uncomfortable. Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time I’ve done something like this. I know the primary concern is infection, which antibiotics can treat, but the only other remedy for healing is silence—or at least resting in as quiet an environment as possible until the eardrum settles and heals.
Healing can take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. I’m hoping for the “few days” scenario, of course, and in the meantime, I’m reminded of the importance of caring for my body. I don’t want to risk losing my hearing, so I’ll be sitting quietly for a bit—reading, meditating, and studying Scripture. A forced pause, but not an unwelcome one. Thrown into the briar patch, indeed!
What I can’t control, though, is the persistent ringing in my ears. It’s mostly just irritating. It tends to fade while I sleep, but returns as the day goes on. In a strange way, it reminds me not only to remain quiet but also that true silence is almost impossible to come by in our modern, tech-saturated world. Even now, as I type this, I notice the keyboard tapping, the refrigerator humming, the air conditioner shifting modes, clothes tumbling in the dryer, and the faint buzz of the lamp above me. Outside, a car speeds by. Inside, Petunia snores on the sofa while Cutty gnaws on a bone.
Silence is golden precisely because it’s so rare.
And yet, it is in silence that God so often speaks to us. When Elijah was hiding in a cave, afraid and alone, God told him to stand on the mountain because He would pass by. A powerful wind came—but God was not in the wind. Then an earthquake—but God was not in the earthquake. Then a fire—but God was not in the fire. And then… sheer silence. And in that silence, Elijah encountered God. (1 Kings 19:9–18)
Elijah had been running—from enemies, yes, but also from fear. And it was only in the silence that he could name that fear and hear God’s reassurance.
How often do we let our fears and anxieties drown out our faith? How often are our prayers filled with lists of needs and concerns, but empty of space for God’s still, small voice? When we’re running—literally or metaphorically—we rarely pause long enough to let God in, much less allow God to reassure us.
But God waits for us in the quiet.
For the next few days, I get to be quiet and still and listen to the sounds of silence.
I pray we all find space this week, even if just for a moment, to be still… and to hear.
Light and Life,
Candice Frazer+