Hush

“In the end, we will not remember the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”  Dr. King knew that some moments want words.  Sometimes, statements have to be made, songs must be sung, words beg to be spoken.  There is a time for silence. Solomon said so.  But for every time you wish you’d kept your mouth shut, I’ll bet there are three when you wrote speeches after the fact of all the things you could have said — all the things you should have said but didn’t.  Sometimes, the moment is so special, the offense is so great, or the victory is so sweet that somebody just needs to stand up and say something.

Like when Jesus was born.  The heavenly host broke out in praise.  An angel made an announcement.  Mary sang.  Old people prophesied.  Shepherds spread the news to anyone who would listen.  The birth of the savior was worth talking about.

At Jesus’ baptism, God himself announced his approval.  And at the transfiguration, God broke the silence of heaven again.  Of course, he had to interrupt Peter to get a word in edgewise, but, bless his heart, my favorite disciple never had a thought he didn’t think worth sharing.

Then there was the resurrection.  That was such a big deal that even when the authorities ordered them to shut up about it, Peter and John said, “we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard.”

Paul even wrote that when Jesus returns, he will do so “with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God.”

So far, you could get the impression that Solomon was wrong.  There doesn’t seem to be a moment when silence was the right response.  The birth of Jesus, his baptism, his transfiguration, his resurrection, his return — all are accompanied by speech, prophesy, preaching, singing and shouting.  Jesus even once said that if the people didn’t sing praises, the rocks would cry out.

But there was one moment when no words were spoken.  No songs were sung.  No sermons, no prophesies.  Not a single sound. On the day Jesus died, heaven and earth fell not just into darkness, but into silence. On the cross, Jesus cried out to God for an answer. But no answer was given.  God was silent.

Maybe the message God needed to convey demanded a deed, not a sound. The cross was all the eloquence God required.  And besides, the one hanging there was, himself, called The Word.

It’s noisy as I write these thoughts.  I hear the whir of the heater in the corner; the swish of car tires on rain-soaked streets outside my window; a rumble of thunder; leaves scrambling in the wind; the clacking of the keyboard; a message alert chirps from my smartphone.  Silence is hard to find.  But we need it.

There is a time to speak and there are reasons for speaking.  But there is also a time to hush.  That’s when we can hear God whisper something important.

It’s Sunday.  Find a quiet space today.  Hush.  Listen.