Daily Delight

I grew up in a house of six: my parents, myself, and my three sisters. You could say things were slightly chaotic. There was always noise of some sort, music or chatter. It’s because of this that I am used to noise. I function best in a busy atmosphere. However, I had a conversation recently with a friend and she said, “I’m okay with silence.” This was foreign, refreshing, and liberating to my ears all at once. 

When I think of silence, I think of Holy Saturday. A sacred reverence must have dewed the earth, the sound of uncertainty and confusion. I can imagine the hearts of the followers of Jesus, as they pondered that He had promised His Kingdom come, yet it looked like the promises He made had fallen through at the hands of the Roman Empire. The disciples had left everything they had, and it looked like they had left it for nothing. Does this resonate with you? Maybe you feel like your promise has been left in the gutter and the resolution is nowhere to be seen and God seems to have remained silent.

Can I suggest something to you? Perhaps your greatest triumph isn’t going to be in the fulfillment of your promise, but rather in the process that comes before. It is in this process that we learn more about who God is, and consequently, who we are in Him. When God is silent, we learn to be intimate with Him. We wrestle with Him, and we begin to trust that silence doesn’t equate to His absence but it is instead a call to listen to His heart intently. But more than that, without silence we wouldn’t be able to hear the rumbling sound of hope that comes from heaven—the sound that reminds us that as daughters of the King; that we’re on the winning side; that death is dead; that Love has won. It’s an everlasting victory.

So maybe like my friend, we, too, can learn to be okay with silence. We can rest knowing that regardless of the pain in the night, joy always comes (Ps. 30:5). We can trust that His goodness has won the day (Rom. 8:28; Ps. 27:13-14) and that we will find Him when we seek Him with all that we are (Jer. 29:13). 

{photo: @jaydaiye}  

About the Author

Steph McGown

Steph loves Jesus, coffee and music- anything folk, alternative or Taylor Swift. You’ll normally find her sitting in her favourite spot at her local coffee store, she is a creature of habit. Originally from Ireland, Steph recently moved to Thunder Bay, Ontario, to work as worship and creative arts intern at Redwood Park church. It’s the best decision she has ever made. 

Her heart is for the local church and she avidly believes in the role of community in the lives of followers of Jesus.