But
the Lord is in his holy temple: let all the earth keep silence before
him” (Habakkuk
2:20).
How often have we heard these words read or sung at the beginning of a
service? The silence enjoined by Habakkuk is not a literal silence but
the silence of submission and acceptance which would not dare to voice
any question or complaint against God.
There is,
however, great value in literal silence—a value our generation may well
have forgotten. In these days of roaring traffic, noisy factories,
humming household appliances and megawatt stereos, an unexpected moment
of silence can be almost frightening. The first option we demand for our
automobiles is a radio/cassette player; and people going to the
mountains or the seashore for a picnic seem more concerned about getting
their ghetto blasters or portable TVs than they are about the
sandwiches. One thing to be said for many of these people is that they
are generous enough to share their sound with everyone within a mile’s
radius. With all due respect, however, I think I prefer the selfish kind
who, while walking, running or cycling, get their necessary sound from
those little earphones that allow the rest of us to make our own selfish
choices of what we want to hear—or not hear.
All of this
lust for sound has even carried over into worship: we want sermons
delivered with machine-gun rapidity and prayers prayed without a
moment’s pause for thought. The silence during the Lord’s Supper has
become so unbearable to some that they have eliminated it with live or
recorded singing. Our generation would have been miserable in heaven
when there was silence “for about half an hour”
(Revelation 8:1).
Silence is
the natural effect of many commendable emotions: awe, humility,
controlled anger, sympathy, a stricken conscience, and reverence, as
well as the submission and acceptance of superior wisdom advised in
Habakkuk 2:20.
Even love may be expressed by silence. Someone has said that the depth
of a friendship may be measured by the time two individuals can be
comfortable with no word exchanged. Our aversion to silence may reveal
the scarcity of some of these qualities.
Silence increases objectivity
as we
escape the clamor of emotional appeals and subjective arguments and
evaluate the real substance of things we have heard. Crooked salesmen do
not like silence.
In a special way, silence seems to remind us of the
presence of God.
It is not
in the city that Christians most often remark on the certainty of a
creator; rather it is on a mountain peak, far above the noise below,
where the stillness is broken only by sounds of God’s creation. Silence
allows us to hear the voice of the Spirit—not in some miraculous way,
but through reflection upon the law of God which we have laid up in our
hearts
(Psalms 119:11)
and upon which we “meditate day and night”
(Psalms 1:2).
Meditation is best without distracting noise. Because of these
qualities, silence may often be used effectively to calm bitterness and
to avoid polarization of individuals in disagreement. The Quakers have
become known as peerless mediators in numerous types of conflict; and
periods of silence are among their favorite devices. Most of us talk too
much and are too rushed to be successful as peacemakers.
Silence is an excellent tool in personal evangelism.
A period of quiet reflection after the reading of a scripture gives the
student time to reach his own conclusions about its message. It is
amazing how effective the Holy Spirit can be in revealing truth to one
whose mind is uncluttered by the explanations of “teachers.”
Silence can encourage decisions.
Once,
talking to a couple who had been attending services for many years, I
was urging their obedience. As usual, they said they needed a little
more time. “How much time do you need?” I asked. “You have had 20
years.” Silence followed. They said nothing. I said nothing. I
determined that I would not speak until they did. The silence
lengthened. It became almost embarrassing—it seemed so long. But it was
finally broken when he said, “I’m ready; let’s go.” They died not long
after that—saved by a decision which was spurred, not by what was said
but by what was not said. I learned that there is, indeed, “a time to
keep silence”
(Ecclesiastes 3:7).
Silence facilitates private prayer.
Perhaps it
was a quest for such silence which led Jesus, rather often, to rise a
long while before day to go out into a solitary place to pray. If He
sought it, so should we.
O Sabbath
rest by Galilee!
O calm of hills above,
Where Jesus knelt to share with Thee
The silence of eternity,
Interpreted by love!
Drop Thy
still dews of quietness
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess,
The beauty of Thy peace.
—John G. Whittier