A Psalm without Silence

A road off the main highway at Bute, South Australia (Photo credit: the author)

I have tried to hear you in the silence, my LORD.

But there is no silence, LORD.

Even if I can remove myself from the traffic and the music and the chatter, I cannot find silence. Because there is always wind; always the crackle of white noise or the memory of noise; of conversations that have gone nowhere; and questions that can never be answered.

Even before I was born, I knew no silence. There were heartbeats and rushing pulses and muted sounds of coffee cups and loving words.

It's so noisy, this life, that even when I block my ears, I can still hear my own sighing.

Do You hear it?

When the world is weeping louder than the roar of exploding airplanes, or sobbing louder than a school of stolen brides, do You hear?

Over that cyclone can You even hear my sighing? If You can't hear me, then how can I ever hope to hear You?

Of course you hear.

You heard the millions of slaves crying out to you from Egypt.

You heard the stuttering Moses.

You heard the High Priest incanting in reverent fear in the dim glow of Your dwelling place.

You. Heard. Abel's. Blood.

The Psalm says "Let me be like the deaf, who cannot hear."

Oh no.... let me be whole-earedly focused on Your sounds, Your sighing, Your heartbeat, Your music, Your wind, Your conversations and Your questions.

Let my high definition of silence be the solo track of Your voice.

LORD, I will wait for You.

You will answer, Lord my God.

And when I learn to pick your soft or urgent calls, only then, please LORD, re-introduce to my ears the subtle hum of Your traffic and let my feet begin to tap to the march of Your glorious parade.

Come quickly to help me, my Lord and my Saviour.

Inspired by Psalm 38