Sit With Me

I happened to be in Barb The Art Teacher’s classroom this afternoon when her last 3rd grade class arrived. At the beginning of each class period, her 3rd graders take part in a meditation moment during which soft music is played and students are asked simply to sit quietly, listen, and focus.

Today, though, something went wrong and the class found itself sitting in silence. After B unsuccessfully fidgeted with the speaker cord and volume buttons, she said, “I guess we’ll just have to meditate to the hum of the air conditioner.” The class moaned. I said, “It’s okay not to have music, boys and girls. Silence is actually good for you. I sat in silence a lot when it snowed because I didn’t have electricity and there wasn’t anything to make noise. It was actually very peaceful and calming.” I’m sure that my words meant very little to the class, yet they mean so much to me.

I began to appreciate silence when I worked as a camp counselor during college, but I didn’t begin to fully understand its importance until I was a student in divinity school. It was then that I started to understand two of life’s most profound contradictions: It is in silence that God often speaks the loudest and Doing nothing is often doing the greatest amount of something that can be done.

Last night as I talked to my mom, I told her that I’d really enjoyed my three days of winter weather. Thankfully, I had power for all but 10-12 hours of those three days, but I didn’t have cable or internet for most of that time so I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for not doing any work. Instead, I slept on my own schedule, cleaned on my own schedule, walked and played with Bullet the Dog on his schedule, watched movies and DVDs that I normally don’t have an opportunity to watch, and enjoyed the absence of noise and activity that almost always fills my days. At the end of my unplanned winter vacation, I felt like I’d had a true Sabbath. For the first time in a really long time, I felt truly rested.

It’s no wonder, then, that I smiled when I read today’s devotion out of Sarah Young’s Jesus Calling (Kids Version). It read:

Take a moment and just sit quietly with me. Let my love surround you and fill you. Feel the light of my presence and enjoy my Peace. I am using these quiet moments to do much more than you can imagine. Give me this gift of your time, and then watch how I bless you and those you love.
Your friendship with me is changing you from the inside out. I am shaping you into the person I want you to be…

Friends, I must confess that when the power first went out on Friday afternoon and I realized that I could be spending days alone in nothing but silence, I sort of panicked. I began thinking of ways to change the situation, yet after I’d placed candles in each room and made sure that there was enough light for me not to be scared, I found that my heart and my spirit had already begun settling into the silence. Shortly thereafter I drifted to sleep and woke up feeling refreshed a few hours later, and throughout the new two days, and even today, I noticed myself craving silence over noise—desiring the beautiful sounds of rests over the beautiful notes of rhythm and melody.

“Take a little while to slow down and sit with me,” I hear God urging. “Let my presence surround you. Let me give you peace.”

Selah.

And peace.