It’s interesting, the things each of us gravitate to depending on our individual natures and maybe even upbringings. Take the practice of silence, for example. Does silence feel comforting or uncomfortable to you?

Most spiritual traditions have some sort of ‘practice of silence’ meant to draw the person toward God, or self, or universe (depending on the practitioner’s goal). Silence is the bridge, the conduit for listening to what may be trying to be communicated.

Silence has always been part of my life. My extra sensitive ear to noises has made it where I have crafted a life with deep pockets of silence. I run to silence. I can’t function in noise. I used to think I was “disordered” because I am disabled in loud environments. My body goes into freeze mode and I shut down. Receiving the label of “auditory processing disorder” in my adult life didn’t help that distorted way of thinking about myself at all.

I used to think my craving for silence was “wrong” or “bad” and that to fit in with others, I needed to be more like them who always seem to have something to say, something to listen too. Background noise on at all times.

But then I realized that God’s voice to me is heard in silence. And it turns out, I’m not the only one who hears best in silence.

Kol demama daka is a Hebrew phrase we have translated ‘still, small voice’ and it’s from 1 Kings 19: 9-14. Literally, it’s the sound of thin silence. The still small voice was given to Elijah after he complains to God that all of God’s prophets have been killed by Jezebel and he alone survives.

For Elijah, God sent a mighty wind, an earthquake, and a fire, to teach Elijah that His voice was in none of them. After all of those really big expressions of nature, (which of course Elijah and you and I would expect to hear God within those events) God spoke to Elijah in the sound of thin silence. I wonder how long Elijah sat within that thin silence. I wonder if being in silence was natural to Elijah, or if he had to really work at it.

There’s a different kind of “noise” though, that even we who love the quiet can fall prey to. (This noise also makes it harder to hear God.) I have orchestrated activities to ‘record’ over the sound of thin silence. I overlay the sounds of busyness, taking care of family, dealing with the cares of the world, writing, and even ‘good deeds’ done in God’s Name. Thin silence makes me nervous for some reason. Does it you? Thin silence is also where I can hear the condemning thoughts in my head, thoughts of unworthiness, of missing out on what others have or do, of fears for the future, of not being good enough. Thin silence can be a place where you and I can most feel alone. It’s maybe not where we expect God to be.

I used to think I wanted the Voice at Sinai. The giving of the Ten Commandments at Sinai was a unique moment in the religious history of mankind. Instead of one lone witness to the voice of a ‘god’ who then tells others what he heard, we have an entire nation witnessing The Voice. The power and majesty of God at Sinai was unmistakable. No matter what the people were doing, when the Voice sounded, it was so significant to their senses that they stopped in their tracks and experienced it. It didn’t matter what distractions they had come up with to cover the thin silence that nobody thinks they want. His Voice came through loud and clear through no effort on their part. They didn’t have to lay down the distractions, so mighty was His voice.  

That’s what I used to think I wanted.

I wanted all of my distractions to keep me company until God speaks. And then I wanted the utter magnitude of His Voice to overpower those other things in my life that I hold dear, so that I get the best of both worlds. My way until God speaks, and then I can easily hear Him, without any effort on my part.

We’re told of the account on Mt. Sinai there was thunder and lightning, “and the people are afraid…and they tremble…and they stand a long way away.” And they say to Moses, “You go and speak to God; if we continue to hear His voice we will die.” His Voice is that powerful. At the sound of His voice, they were so terrified of closeness to Him that they begged for a stand in, instead of direct experience. I don’t want that. I’ll bet you don’t either. We’re created to connect with God.

I’d rather have His nearness, even if it’s in the same silent space where I’m feeling most vulnerable. I know that means I need to brave the sound of thin silence. Elijah, in his time of need, his time of feeling quite alone, gets a voice he can hear only if he is truly listening. He must venture into the thin silence where his alone-ness might be deafening. But that is where God was for him.

Laying down the distractions to hear the sounds of thin silence takes concentrated effort. You know, we’ve kind of been conditioned to believe that active efforts to draw close to God are akin to ‘dead works,’ and heaven forbid you or I substitute works for grace. And so, we might feel justified to keep our distractions intact and we think it’s more spiritual to wait for God to shout when He wants our attention. We wait for wind, earthquake, and fire. But what we get is kol demama daka. We get silence. And we get God’s presence and His wisdom. Yes, it takes effort, but it’s worth it.