Called to Quiet

Quiet is hard to come by these days.

Not just outward silence (that’s hard enough), but the kind of interior quiet that roots a whole life, forming its rhythms, anchoring the heart in seasons of sorrow and joy. Even in the church, we struggle to claim or cultivate regular quiet as the inward space in which we wait for God’s arrival, listen for his voice.

We live in a world driven by distraction, activity and interior noise. Our attention is drawn constantly to the addictive scroll of a feed or screen, our minds are trained to skim information, restless for the next headline, idea or disaster. We are harried and restless. Our devices are with us at all times so that whether we walk or work, grieve or rest, we never need to be silent. 

Our disquiet shapes our lives in many ways. We live increasingly with a false sense of urgency, a need to produce and accomplish that is rooted, not in conviction or Scripture, but in the restless competition stoked by the online world. We are often disconnected from our physical and emotional surroundings, incapable of enjoying an outdoor walk without a screen to document it, uncomfortable with the needs of our actual neighbors and loved ones, increasingly dismissive of the tiny, embodied acts of ordinary faithfulness that constitute the spiritual richness or poverty of our lives. 

But the greatest consequence of our distracted minds and busy eyes is spiritual. Has the smartphone become a replacement for the Holy Spirit, our source of infinite information, the ever-present comforter we turn to in times of need or fear? Perhaps. What is certain is that we increasingly struggle to hear the voice of God, to find his presence in our troubled world, to feel his companionship. 

What we need is a reclamation of quiet as something integral to discipleship.

Quiet isn’t something just for the single, the introverted, the saintly, the lonely. Every Christian is called to be a person capable of hearing the voice of the Holy Spirit. Our quiet is the inward home we can daily seek into which God speaks both comfort and conviction, the room from which we pray, the space of our learning, our creativity, our discernment. Scripture is filled with commands to wait or listen, to watch and hope, to literally be still (Ps. 46:10), postures of trust and expectation we can only embody in an atmosphere of attention.

Because of this, I think that the cultivation of quiet is one of the urgent tasks of Christian discipleship in the 21st century. We need to recapture an understanding of what quiet is and means, how it is practiced, the shape it takes in our ordinary lives. We need to understand it not primarily as subtraction—of companionship, activity or noise—but as homecoming, the native ground of our hearts, the rich place we return to for comfort, for inspiration, for peace, for a far-sighted joy. We need to recapture the embodied shape of quiet, its rhythms, the words that lead us to it, the practices that make it something we can grasp. 

The great thing is that generations of Christian writers have understood and written about the spiritually potent discipline of quiet, describing both the struggle of gaining quiet and the riches it yields once found. They write with compassionate knowledge of human frailty, and also with a practicality that invites the least quiet of us to attempt the journey to attention once more. Reading can be an inward way of walking, and their words have left a path for us to follow. 

Here are a few of the books that I have found the most helpful in my journey:

Silence and Honey Cakes: The Wisdom of the Desert by Rowan Williams (Lion Books) is an excellent introduction to the writings of the Desert Mothers and Fathers of the early church, who understood and wrestled with the demands of interiority, self-knowledge and spiritual attention.

The Contemplative Pastor: Returning to the Art of Spiritual Direction by Eugene Peterson (Eerdmans) is a work of deep insight and beauty, describing the life of ministry as one that needs to be not about accomplishment and activity, but “unbusy, subversive and apocalyptic,” a life rooted in watchful, attentive quiet.

Concerning the Inner Life With the House of the Soul by Evelyn Underhill (Wipf & Stock) urges readers to a real cultivation of the inward life of prayer as the space where they learn to know more and more deeply “the ineffable realities to which they have given their lives.”

Sanctuary of the Soul: Journey Into Meditative Prayer by Richard Foster (IVP) directly addresses the realm of deep, meditative prayer, writing as a guide for those drawn to a life of deeper quiet and spiritual attention.

The Practice of the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence (public domain) is a spiritual classic that invites us to live moment by moment in quiet attention to the gracious presence of God.

Celtic Daily Prayer: Prayers and Readings From the Northumbria Community (HarperOne) is based on generations of oral prayers passed down in Celtic churches. Regardless of church background, engaging liturgy as a spiritual practice can be a rich way to pursue quiet.