There's a particular kind of noise that comes with modern life. Not just the audible kind—though there's plenty of that—but the internal noise that fills our minds with constant chatter, endless to-do lists, and the persistent hum of worry.
I've noticed how quickly I reach for distractions when stillness arrives. The moment a waiting room falls quiet, my hand instinctively grabs my phone. When a rare pocket of unscheduled time appears, I fill it immediately. It's almost as if stillness itself makes me uncomfortable.
Isaiah 30:15 speaks directly to this struggle: "In quietness and trust is your strength." These words feel almost countercultural in a world that celebrates busyness and equates worth with productivity. The verse suggests something different—that strength doesn't always come from doing more but sometimes from doing less.
The full verse reveals even more: "This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it."
That last part stings with truth. How often do I acknowledge the value of quiet trust while simultaneously running from it? How frequently do I nod at the importance of stillness while filling every moment with activity?
True stillness isn't just the absence of noise. It's the presence of something else—a quiet confidence that God is working even when we aren't. It's the settled assurance that our value doesn't come from our output but from our identity as beloved children.
I've found that strength doesn't always announce itself with fanfare. Sometimes it arrives quietly in those moments when we finally stop striving and simply rest in God's presence. When we pause long enough to remember who is really holding the world together.
The practice of stillness runs deeper than relaxation techniques or mindfulness exercises, though those can be helpful. It's about creating space to remember what's true when life gets loud—that God is sovereign, that His love is constant, that His promises hold.
What might change if we took Isaiah's words seriously? If we viewed quietness not as unproductive time but as an essential practice for developing strength? If we saw trust not as passive resignation but as active positioning for God's work in our lives?
This week, consider creating small pockets of stillness. Not to accomplish something or to add another item to your spiritual checklist, but simply to be present with God. To let His voice become louder than the competing voices that demand your attention and energy.
In a world that constantly tells us to do more, be more, achieve more—perhaps the most countercultural act of faith is to be still and know that He is God. To find our strength not in endless activity but in quiet trust.