Except for the clank of whatever metal object I accidentally put in the dryer (a belt? quarter? screwdriver?) and the hum of the refrigerator. The scratch of my pen on paper also, and the swish of my hand moving across the page. It should be peaceful.
I only have these few minutes to be with Jesus in the quiet, before the boys come crashing in, sending the back door flying into the kitchen table chair, scrape of wood across tile. I am still working to re-find my first love. Yet I find myself spooked, wanting to run. I want to fill the quiet. Not with music or my own voice, but with stuff. That email I need to send. The blog I want to read. The counters to wipe down, the bed to make.
The quiet is not what’s hard–it’s the stillness. The quiet of my heart, the stilling of my body. The silencing of all those to-do lists and quenching of desires so that in this one, brief moment, I can know that He is God.
Psalm 46:10 does not say that I should DO anything about it, only that I should know it. In my stillness, I need not do a good work, serve someone, finish my daily tasks. I do not need to sing a praise song (though I could) or make a proclamation of faith. I need to be still and KNOW.
The stillness is about the knowing. Stillness is only possible IN the knowing. My worst day looks like a peach compared to Psalm 46, what with the earth melting and the nations raging. Stillness is possible even in those circumstances when we KNOW.
If there is a God, and He does hold all things together in this vast universe, and He knows my name, and He knows the number of hairs on my head, and He cares for the sparrow, then I am able to fully be still. For in the knowing of those things, the knowing of a powerful yet personal God, I can put the laundry in perspective. I realize that email is not so urgent. I do not need to buy a new dress online.
When we are still of heart and mind, we can know the fullness of God. When we know the fullness of God, we can be still.
God desires my stillness. Jesus rose early in the morning while it was still dark and, while disciples were frantic with worry and to-do lists and ministry needs, Jesus KNEW that He was God. He was still. And after being still, he finished the to-do lists and healed the sick and preached the good news.
Be still, and know that I am God.
My bustle is so small. My hurry and urgent and busy are tiny compared with His magnitude. I see this in the stillness. I know it in the knowing. My best efforts cannot hold the pieces of this life together. God is already in the business of running creation.
Knowing that, I can be still.