I spent 24 hours in silence. Not away from hustle and bustle, or away from the 28 other mouths I live with, nor was I living in a world like that which is depicted in A Quiet Place. I just chose to be silent for 24 hours. Let me tell you, it was really hard. I thought it would be kind of easy, that I would just point more and use my hands to talk. However, hands alone can’t form sentences, and sometimes what you need to express isn’t comparable enough to an object in the room.
This was something God had been asking me to do for about a week. So, on Sunday at three o’clock I shut my mouth indefinitely (okay, just for a full days’ time.) I wrote a note in my phone that said “24 hours of silence, sorry. Thank you for understanding, I love you,” and when someone came up to talk to me I would show them that, but then communicate (or try to) that I was still available to listen to them and could respond in other ways.
It felt like it was going easy until it came to my prayer time. Since I usually pray before sleeping, sometimes I lay at the end of my bed. As I lay there journaling, I asked God why he had wanted me to do this day of silence. He said, “to learn from me.” I asked him what I needed to learn, and he said, “how to be silent and sit before me.” I thought this was odd, because I thought I knew how to do this. But as I continued there at the end of my bed in my prayer time, I felt like I was trapped. I couldn’t open my mouth to pray, and trying to pray in my head felt unnatural. I felt anxious, and I hated it. I kept saying “God, this is really hard…” and He just kept whispering, “just be silent.”
Not as easy as it sounds.
Eventually, I fell asleep at the end of my bed, and woke up at one point and moved up to my pillow.
That next day I went with a group to a prison to visit with the girls there. I remember this kind of ministry being one of my favorites on my own Race. In El Salvador we visited many prisons and safe houses for teenage girls, and those visits were some of the hardest yet sweetest moments of ministry. However, I couldn’t speak for this visit. I knew I didn’t want to break it early; I’m a very committed person. When I decide something, I persevere through it until I reach the end. So, when the girls came into the room, I just smiled with love and touched their arms or hugged them as my welcome.
Three o’clock hit when we were still in the prison. It was time for me to finally talk again. Yet, I knew it would be weird to suddenly start talking around these girls. When they had us introduce ourselves, Taylor introduced me, “This is Hope, she can’t talk,” and they translated that for them. So, to suddenly start talking would have been confusing to the girls. I waited to say anything until we had walked out, and it did feel weird at first. It was almost scary to now have the freedom of speech.
So, what did I learn from 24 hours of silence?
On the ride home one of the Racers asked me why I did it. While giving her my answer I had an epiphany. Most of the time we want to be in God’s presence simply because it fills us with peace, and we love the time spent with him even if he doesn’t speak. What if God also just wants to be in our presence without us having to speak? If he already knows what’s in our hearts, does it really matter that we spend time telling him? Time that we could spend either praying or just enjoying the moment of being together with Him? Sometimes it’s important that we verbalize our honesty to Him, but sometimes it’s nice to just be with Him in silence.
I also learned valuable lessons in communication. When I couldn’t talk I had to intentionally look at someone to communicate with them, and they had to do the same with me if they wanted to understand what I was saying. We had to use not just voices, but body language. They had to be patient with me as I tried getting my point across without words. This prompted me to question my own communication with others; do I look people in the eye enough? Does my body language say that I’m listening? When I speak am I expressive with my hands or face? Ask yourself these questions.
I also felt humbled as others were willing to look somewhat like an idiot when talking to me. And despite feeling like I had a disability, people still saw me. They still wanted to talk to me and were willing to make that work out in whatever way possible. This made me ask myself: Do I see the quiet people? Or the lonely, hurt, desperate people? Do I reach out to them for conversation? Ask yourself these questions.
If you are someone who constantly feels like you have to fill a silent room with conversation, maybe you should stop talking and take a day of silence. Or if you want to learn what it looks like to be seen when you can’t speak, you should also take a day of silence. Seriously, it’ll teach you a thing or two.
I will leave with you a few beautiful quotes on silence.
“It is better in prayer to have a heart without words than words without a heart.” -Mahatma Ghandi
“The quieter you become the more you are able to hear.” -Rumi
“I closed my mouth and spoke to you in a hundred silent ways.” -Unknown
“Saying nothing…sometimes says the most.” -Emily Dickenson
“Speech is silver, silence is golden.” – Thomas Carlyle.
I love gold, so that quote was the perfect ending.
Much love to you,
Hope
