Sometimes what comes up in silence is something I'd rather keep buried under noise and busyness. A fear I haven't addressed. A resentment I told myself I'd already forgiven. A question about myself I keep postponing.

But I stay in it. Because I've read enough Scripture to know that God speaks quietly ✨ Not in the earthquake. Not in the fire. In the still small voice — and you cannot hear a still small voice if you are always, always filling the air.

I think people are afraid of silence because it's honest. You can't distract yourself in silence. You can't pretend in silence. It strips everything back to what's actually there. And that's terrifying if what's there isn't what you've been telling everyone — including yourself — that it is 🤍

I'm not saying I have it figured out. Some days I last three minutes before I reach for something to listen to 😅 But I keep returning to it, because every time I do, something small shifts. Something becomes clearer.

Is it possible that most of what we're searching for outside ourselves is actually waiting in the quiet we keep running from? 🙏

Maria