When words run out

Before I went to Big Church Festival, I had been thinking quite a lot about silence. I had written about the need to find space in our busy lives to stop, to breathe, to listen, and simply to be in God’s presence.

Tracey and Gilbert have since spoken about some of these things, so I don't want to repeat what they have said. But the idea of silence has continued to sit with me, and I think perhaps I have begun to understand it a little differently.

When something happens to us, our natural instinct is to tell someone.

When something wonderful happens, we want to share it. We want someone else to know, to celebrate with us, to say, “That's amazing.”

And when something difficult happens, we want to talk about that too. We look for someone who will listen, reassure us, help us make sense of what has happened, or simply sit alongside us while we try to work it out.

And that is good. We need one another.

But eventually, the talking stops.

The phone goes down. The messages stop coming. The people who have listened return to their own lives. And we are left, perhaps, with the quiet.

With our thoughts.

With our questions.

With whatever it is that is going on inside us.

I wonder whether that is sometimes the place where we encounter God most deeply.

Not because God wasn't there while we were talking. He was.

But perhaps, when everything else becomes quiet, we become more aware of His presence.

A little while ago, I was simply putting out the washing. Nothing particularly spiritual was happening. It was just one of those ordinary jobs that needs doing.

And in the middle of that very ordinary moment, a phrase came to me:

“God is close to the broken-hearted.”

I stopped and thought about it.

God is close to the broken-hearted.

Not just when they have found the words to pray.

Not just when they have worked out what they believe.

Not just when they are able to make sense of what has happened.

God is close.

Even in the silence.

Sometimes we don't have any words left.

We have talked it through. We have cried. We have tried to explain it. We have asked the questions. We have listened to what other people think.

And then there is nothing more to say.

But perhaps we don't always need to say something.

God can hear us when we say nothing at all.

He knows the thoughts that we cannot express. He knows the ache that sits somewhere inside us. He knows the questions we haven't dared to ask. He knows the things we don't even understand ourselves.

And perhaps silence is not an empty space after all.

Perhaps it is a space where we discover that God is holding us.

Psalm 34 says:

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

I find something deeply comforting in those words.

He is close.

There is no instruction to get ourselves sorted first. No suggestion that we need to find the right words or put on a brave face.

Just the reassurance that He is close.

Maybe this is why silence matters.

It gives us permission to stop trying to fill the space.

To stop explaining.

To stop performing.

To stop trying to make everything alright.

And simply to be.

To sit quietly before the God who already knows us completely

I've just written this for our church it might help