I Kings 19:1-12. (click for the full reading)

God said, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind, and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lordwas not in the earthquake, ¹² and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lordwas not in the fire, and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. vs. 11-12

If you want deeper and more meaningful conversations, you must get comfortable with silence. Sometimes, we must be quiet so the other person can think and let something precious emerge from the conversation. If we anxiously fill every quiet moment with words, there is no space for something profound to surface. Other times, we must remove ourselves from the noise to find a wiser inner voice, the still, small voice of the Spirit speaking to us. Wisdom does not flourish in a cacophony.

Understanding silence is crucial because it comes in many forms and can evoke different feelings. Silence can be both positive and negative. For instance, if the birds stop chirping and the forest goes eerily quiet, it may signal danger. Sometimes, we don't want silence because all the negative voices emerge; regrets, shame, and loneliness are too much to bear, so we fill our space with background noise.  You may have received the silent treatment when someone isn't speaking to you. You know they are mad, and the lack of communication feels lonely or ominous. The negative side of silence can be a refusal or inability to risk a relationship or face the truth.   

Simon and Garfunkel's classic song "The Sound of Silence" expresses our ambiguous or even fearful relationship to silence.

People talking without speaking. People listening without hearing. 

Words can be meaningless if we are avoiding what is real and true. Our silence about abuse or injustice is complicity. 

Silence like a cancer grows. 

The haunting ending describes the feeling when we don’t listen and pay attention to voices from the margins, our prophetic voices,

But my words, like silent raindrops, fell

And echoed in the wells of silence. 

Silence is tricky. If we talk too much, we are just noisy, and our words mean less. If we say too little when our positive words are needed, our silence communicates rejection and fear. We need silence, but the goal must be to strengthen love, not to live in fear.

Many hymns affirm the spiritual power of quietness. I love the spiritual that says,

"Blessed quietness, holy quietness, what assurance in my soul. On the stormy seas, Jesus speaks to me, and the billows cease to roll.

A favorite Advent hymn addresses the courage needed to enter silence so we may know God,

Let all mortal flesh keep silence,
and with fear and trembling stand;
Set your minds on things eternal,
for with blessing in his hand
Christ our God to earth descending
Comes our homage to command.

Silence can be challenging, vulnerable, and lonely, but when we pass through to solitude, the quiet becomes healing renewing, and provides us with wisdom. 

Let's pause and acknowledge that we first experience silence as negative on the way to the wisdom of solitude. If you have tried to meditate, you understand this dynamic. Our first attempts at a quiet mind are impossible. The first minutes fill with the trivia of a busy mind, things on our to-do list, the annoying or hurtful words said, and unpaid bills. Negativity cycles faster as the voices say, "I'm not very good at this. Why am I doing this? It’s futile." We use many strategies to avoid these voices, so why choose to face them in silence?

But over time, we learn to let go of these negative voices. We acknowledge them and let them go. When I hear all those negative voices in meditation, I treat them like the weather. The weather is what it is. I can't control it. Here comes the dark clouds of negative thoughts, the mists of frustration and confusion, a lightning flash of anger, the distant thunder of anxiousness. I name them, and they pass. My inner skies begin to clear. I've learned to say to every voice, "This too." Here's a thought; there is a thought. They are just weather. Our wiser selves are beyond the weather and emerges as the storms of words quiet. 

In our scripture, Elijah heads into the wilderness because he is being silenced. Let me give a brief background on the religious and political turmoil in Israel. King Ahab married Jezebel of Phoenicia, who worshiped the god Baal. They are engaging in a hostile religious takeover of Israel. As with many religious authoritarians, she uses theology to cover for greed and injustice, while using lies, deception and threats to get what she wants.

Jezebel sends a message to Elijah that he is a dead man, so he flees for his life. Elijah is not taking a much-needed silent spiritual retreat in peace and quiet. His voice is cut off, and he is forced into a desolate place to save himself. He rests under a broom tree, a hardy bush that only grows in the wilderness. If you see a broom tree, you are nowhere with plenty of silence. Elijah enters silence, lonely, afraid, and exhausted. He prayed that he might die. "I have had enough, Lord," he said. "Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors." 

This despair is what polarization, bullying, and authoritarianism create. Intimidation makes you collapse in on yourself. The "silence like a cancer grows." The result is a deep depression that immobilizes us. This silence is negative, stemming from loneliness, cruelty, and injustice. Your mind will do the bully's dirty work when you fall into it. 

Elijah is in the physical wilderness and the spiritual and emotional wilderness of doubt and fear. The hostile wilderness silence is not his friend. But angels now come and occupy the silence with Elijah. All the angels say in verse five is, "Get up and eat." They create hospitality in the wilderness with baked bread and water. The angels are like our Befrienders ministry. They don't say anything beyond what is necessary. They don't come and urge Elijah to do anything beyond eating; they don't judge, give advice, and start telling stories about when they felt hurt and alone or how much they hate Jezebel and Ahab, too. They create hospitality in the silence. In therapy, this is called "holding the space." Sometimes, it is a great comfort to have someone who sits so quietly we can gather ourselves. If someone is distressed, it can be a great gift to be present and hold the space with them. 

This act is so essential the angels do it a second time in verse seven. "Get up and eat so you will have strength for the journey." In quietness comes strength for the journey.

Now, we come to the conversation between Elijah and God. Notice God's first words invite Elijah with a question, "What are you doing here, Elijah?" Listen to the distress of Elijah's answer;

"I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too."

Elijah sees everything as catastrophic. His enemies have won, injustice and violence reign, and he is alone. I wonder which news channel he watches. When bad things happen, our tendency is to project out the continued negative consequences. But so far, every prediction that the world will end has been wrong. Elijah is correct about everything but one detail. He is not alone. God is there. Later in the chapter, God assures Elijah that 7000 people have not bowed to Baal. God does not say much in answer to Elijah's distress. God gives Elijah an invitation.

"Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by."

God moves Elijah into a different place. It is a sacred space. Elijah is at Mount Horeb, in Sinai, where Moses spoke with God and received the Ten Commandments. At Horeb Moses asked to see the presence of God, and God agrees to pass by. At the mountaintop, Elijah will gain perspective beyond his inner turmoil. It is a sacred space. That is what silence of solitude can become for us, the holy space where the wisdom comes to us. 

At the mountaintop, Elijah experiences the power of nature; wind, an earthquake, and fire. But in each case, it says God is not present in these moments. God is not necessarily in the spectacular. Wisdom doesn't come from lightning bolts. God's presence comes to Elijah in deep stillness. The most known translation from the King James Bible is "the still, small voice." The Hebrew could mean, "gentle whisper, shear silence or thin silence." The sacred emerges in the sound of silence. So much truth communicated with no words. Many of our most important experiences our wordless. A first kiss, a hug, a reassuring presence or a silent nod of affirmation that told us we could do it.



Elijah's story teaches us silence isn’t a void to be feared but a sacred space where the Spirit speaks. Silence is the womb where our inner wisdom flows, where courage emerges, and we find direction and purpose. I find even 15 minutes a day helps set a tone. Negativity dissipates. Priorities for the day emerge. I’m better prepared to hold space for others. In the sounds of silence, the most important conversation happens. The still, small voice shapes us.