The Sacred Stillness That Finds Us

Photo by Erwann Letue on Unsplash

Anchor Scripture: “Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10 (NLT)

There are places in life that feel thin — where the space between heaven and earth suddenly narrows, and God feels unexpectedly near. Sometimes they come upon us without warning: a hospital hallway where grief lingers in the air; a kitchen table holding steaming coffee and a perfectly timed phone call from a friend; the hush after a storm when everything outside looks rinsed and soft again.

More often than not, though, we rush past holy ground in our attempt to keep up with life.

Sacred stillness is not something we conquer to prove our spiritual strength. It is something that finds us — if only we are willing to let ourselves be found.

At the launch of The Quiet Chaplain, this opening week invites you not to do more, but to bravely stop, to be still, and to look for the God who has been waiting there all along.

The Noise We Carry

We live in a world designed for noise. The fluorescent hum of workspaces, constant notifications pinging from phones, calendars that chirp and blink and remind us we're already late for what’s next. Even in ministry — maybe especially in ministry — we carry the weight of needing to always be “on.” Helpful. Productive. Needed.

And yet deep beneath the surface is a sacred yearning — a whisper that keeps asking:

Is there more than this hurried existence?

The psalmist doesn't tell us to hustle our way into knowing God. He invites us into stillness:
“Be still, and know…”
The Hebrew word used here — raphah — means “to loosen, to let go, to release the grip.” God's presence is not found through clenched fists but through open hands.

Chaplaincy teaches something ordinary pastors sometimes forget: the ministry of presence is more powerful than performance. It is often the quiet person, breathing slowly, asking no questions, speaking no platitudes, who creates the greatest room for God to work.

But what if we did not wait for pain to become still? What if we practiced the art of sacred stillness before crisis arrived?

I learned in my time as a pastor, chaplain, and leader that we often fear stillness because we equate it with uselessness. But what appears passive in the kingdom of noise is actually deeply active in the kingdom of God. Stillness is a spiritual battleground where we stop striving long enough to remember who God has always been.

Living Psalm 46:10 in a Hectic World

“Be still and know…” is not a suggestion for the Sabbath only — it is an invitation for everyday life. But how do we let sacred stillness find us when we are managing children, ministries, inboxes, expectations, and exhaustion?

Here are some small, quiet steps toward sacred stillness:

• Pause between tasks. Rather than jumping from one thing to the next, take 30 seconds to breathe deeply. Whisper a breath prayer like, “Here I am, Lord.”

• Embrace holy uselessness. Resist the urge to fill every gap in the conversation, every moment in the day, every long hallway with words. Let there be quiet.

• Notice what you normally overlook. A shaft of sunlight through the blinds. The sound of rain. A stranger’s kind smile. Stillness is not always the absence of sound — it is the presence of attention.

• Let your body lead the way. Unclench your jaw. Drop your shoulders. Open your hands on your lap. Sometimes stillness begins in the body before it can reach the soul.

• Stay. When everything in you wants to move on, stay. Linger an extra moment. One more breath may be all it takes to hear God’s whisper.

Sacred Stillness is Not Isolation

Being still does not mean being alone forever. Rather, sacred stillness becomes the fountain from which we return to the world with renewed gentleness and courage. Jesus Himself modeled this rhythm — retreating to lonely places, only to return with power to touch the leper, feed the hungry, and speak with compassion.

Stillness is not escape — it is engagement from within the Presence.

It changes the way we live among others.

We begin to hear people more truly.
We begin to respond instead of react.
We begin to carry peace, not because we are strong, but because we have been still long enough to be filled again.

When Stillness Feels Uncomfortable

Expect discomfort. Sacred stillness often exposes the very things we try to outrun — fatigue, disappointment, grief, fear. This exposure is not meant to shame us, but to heal us. Truth rises in the quiet. And where truth rises, God is waiting.

If you feel anxious in stillness, gently name what surfaces:

• “I’m afraid I’ll disappoint others if I stop.”

• “I fear being irrelevant if I’m not constantly producing.”

• “I’m scared of what might rise to the surface in silence.”

Hold these fears in the light of God’s unfailing love — not as something to solve, but as something to surrender. Let Him meet you there.

A Takeaway for This Week

Stillness is not something you master — it is Someone you meet.

This week, let sacred stillness find you. Whether that is while washing dishes, sitting in your car before going into work, walking without earbuds, or choosing not to fill a silent conversation with words — lean in.

• Let go.

• Open your hands.

• Let the silence say something you have been too busy to hear.

As the first quiet act of The Quiet Chaplain, I invite you to whisper a simple prayer each day:

“Lord, settle my soul so I might know You here.”

Then wait — not for productivity, not for shocks of lightning — but for Presence.

He will come.
He always does.

Questions for Personal Reflection

1. Where in my current life do I avoid stillness? Why?

2. What emotions or thoughts surface when I try to be still?

3. What simple moment today could become a sacred pause if I slowed down enough to notice it?

4. What might God be whispering in this season of my life that I’ve been too hurried to hear?