Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place where He prayed. Mark 1:35
Quiet comes in many forms.
Jesus found solace while the world slept.
Seeking the Father.
Praying.
Recharging.
The early morning is quiet, short of a rooster making his presence known. The air is fresh, the coffee is warm. Time to reflect on the day ahead before the noise of yesterday returns.
There is the elusive quiet we seek, beyond screaming clients, screaming colleagues or screaming children. A moment to live between our ears, to ponder faith and the mysteries of life, or just to be.
Then there is the quiet that appears uninvited.
A kitchen that used to rattle with the sounds of pots and pans, and the aroma that floated throughout.
An empty chair where laughter once roared over a table full of family and friends.
Once hugs have been given and grandbabies are headed back home, a different quiet returns.
A deafening silence.
Emptiness.
Some long for just a moment of quiet, while others dread the hours between sundown and sunrise.
There’s a reason God often speaks in these moments. Not that He just arrived, but that He’s always been there, filling the space.
As a canyon fades into the evening mist, echoes reveal how powerful the river was. The louder the echo, the greater the sound that filled the space.
Within these four walls, memories appear in every corner then fade into reality.
The silence rests heavily on the chest.
Yet, as with the canyon, the louder the echo, the greater the love that filled the space.
God is there in the stillness, in the deepest corners of a broken heart. He allows memories of the greatest loves we’ve known, as a reminder of how He loves.
That much…
and more.
One day, the quiet will still ache… but just enough to hear.
The echo of laughter.
The memory of years shared.
And the gentle voice of a Loving God reminding us that
Love is never truly lost.
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