Silence.

It’s impossible.

In this day and age it is.

I sought silence. I pursued it thinking somewhere, somehow, it was possible. I went to the quietest place in my house. My bathtub. Seems crazy, doesn’t it? But I have real moments with God there. I was convinced that if I could find total silence, I would hear His voice louder than ever.

I sat there and waited. All around me was noise, my dogs jingling collar in the hall, the man next door mowing for the third time this week. The pool pump running. The air conditioner kicking on and off again. Clicks, and rings, and vibrations. Nothing that I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear God!

So I submerged myself. Head, body, feet, hands, ears completely submerged in water. Still no silence, and added to that was the rush of thoughts and feelings and disappointment that I was trying and still there was noise! I got upset, “All I wanna do is hear you God. All I want is complete silence so I can here your voice.”

Then I heard him…not in the silence, every sound shared a lesson, but in the stillness.

I stilled my emotions, my desperation and I listened. The sound that was almost overwhelming was that of water. It was as if God said, “Remember this? This is where we first met. You were a developing baby and mine were the hands that gently formed you. I love this sound…listen and remember.”

The next sound I heard was my heart beat. ”And that….that is my love for you. The life I have given you. I choose to give you life so that you might find me. That passion that you feel, that overwhelming love that knocks your breath away, all me.”

Next I heard the steady inhale and exhale, of each recently ragged breath. “I breathed life in you! That is my breath that fills your lungs! Air didn’t exist until I breathed it. With each pull and push of your lungs you must know that I am breath to you.”

I opened my eyes, thinking I might see Him sitting right there, smiling beside me, His presence was so strong. Instead the light, made me blink. “And those eyes. I had great delight forming their varying shades and ridges to make them unique to you.” Thinking about my eyes made me cry, but He even responded to those tears, “Remember two years ago…you begged me for tears to water your dry eyes? Remember when you were told that you might be going blind, remember when you strained to see even 3 inches in front of you?” I remembered. I remembered the fear and the desire the reservation and the submission…and the miracle. “You asked for your sight so that you might see what I see…those faces, those hearts, this generation, these women…this love…my eyes, in you.”

At that point, I slowly raised my hand out of the water, watching the drops fall and hit the side of the tub. I turned it over looking at each line and wrinkly pucker. “Those hands…those hands are my voice. Those hands share my message of love and hope and healing to those you will never meet. They are the tool that I have chosen in you. They are my gift to you.”

Feeling ashamed of my desperation and my discouragement, He addressed it. “No. You are wrong. The absence of sound is not where you will hear my voice. And the absence of my voice is not the absence of my presence. I will never leave you or forsake you…this is my promise! I am always with you…this is my oath! I love you…this is my delight, and that you love me enough to seek me, this is my joy.” His love washed over me like the water I had just left behind. I was moved beyond the moment and in my mind I pictured myself sitting in His lap. “This is where I hold you, love. Safely, in the shadow of my wings.” But He had more to say, “You love your children, don’t you? I know I do! And you are always there if they need you. Oh, but daughter, when they run to you, when they crawl in your lap, or sing you a song they made up, or hold your hand and trace your face…it’s overwhelming, isn’t it? So I feel right now with you.”

I have to admit that caused me to question whether I was truly listening to His voice, Father God was overwhelmed? By me? But He hushed me. And before I left that moment, that place. I heard Him say, “You long to do so much…my child, I will give you much to do. But now, be still. Rest. I require nothing of you.”

Silence.

Maybe it is possible.

I found remarkable silence in the lap of my Father.

And you’re next!