Today I drove down an old country road with the windows down and the radio off, just listening to the quiet. Of course, “quiet” doesn’t mean “silence.” The birds twittering away, the squirrels running through the treetops, the brook bubbling in its rocky bed—these are a few of the sounds of quiet that I heard this morning.
Quiet is something that we rarely get to experience these days. There are so many things that vie for our attention—the news, television shows, blaring radios, and even our own unkind thoughts. (I usually get those when someone pulls up next to me with one of those blaring radios.) Yet your Father wants you to know quiet. He longs for you to rest in his presence. “Be still, and know that I am God,” he invites us. “Come to me,” he calls, “and I will give you rest.”
No matter what storm you’re going through, you can call on the Master of Storms, and he will bring the tranquility you desperately crave. When he steps in and declares, “Peace, be still,” the winds will abate and the waves will calm, and the soul in turmoil can know the quiet of God.
That’s something to think about.