by Londyn, SEM Intern
The world we live in is loud. Nearly everywhere we go, there’s motion and sound– conversations rise and fall, and the chatter of plans and problems and priorities is ever going. While none of this is inherently wrong, I’ve come to notice how easily all this noise piles up in my heart. After a while, it starts to feel like clutter. And in the middle of it all, I find myself longing—not just for rest, but for something deeper. I long for stillness. Not just the absence of sound, but the kind of stillness that lets the soul breathe. That sacred quiet that lets me see clearly again and remember what matters most. The Church has a word for this: hesychia—holy silence. A silence not of emptiness, but of fullness. A silence in which we can finally hear God.
Psalm 45:11 says, “Be still and know that I am God.”
Over time and prayer, I’ve learned that silence can begin in the smallest places: closing my eyes before a meal and remembering that every breath is a miracle. Walking under the stars and letting wonder rise. Sitting beside a loved one without needing to speak.
Stillness isn’t always easy. Sometimes it feels uncomfortable, especially at first. I’ve had moments where I sit down to pray in silence and suddenly everything I’ve ignored comes rushing in—worries, regrets, distractions. But even that is part of the healing. Stillness makes us honest. It clears out space so that something better can grow.
The desert fathers didn’t choose solitude because they hated people—they longed for the presence of God in a pure and undistracted way. In their words and lives, I see a deep truth: that the quieter our hearts become, the more clearly we hear the One who made them.
“Establish your heart in peace,” wrote Saint Isaac the Syrian, “and a multitude around you will be saved.” What a thought—that my personal stillness, my quiet love for Christ, can ripple outward and bring peace to others. Isn’t that the kind of person we all long to become? The kind whose very presence brings calm? The kind who listens without hurrying, who sees without judging, who loves without noise?
Life won’t always give us silence. But stillness can live even within sound. It’s an attitude of the heart—a way of being. I’ve felt it even while walking in a crowd or washing dishes or watching leaves fall. I think that’s the grace of it: once you start to make space for stillness, it follows you. It becomes part of you. Because beneath it all—beneath the schedules and worries and distractions—there is a God who waits to be known. And His voice is not in the earthquake or the fire or the whirlwind. His voice is in silence and He’s already speaking.
Check back for part II, Practical Tips for Fostering Stillness!