Finding God in the Silence
Dear Church Family,
It's been a noisy week. Not the kind of noise measured in decibels, but the overwhelming cacophony of activities, obligations, news feeds, social media, and the relentless demands of daily life.
Last night, driving home from our Board of Trustees meeting, my mind was racing—not because we faced particularly difficult decisions (though that plumbing issue did require some serious deliberation), but because it was my fifth meeting of the day. Between trying to catch up in the spaces between commitments, my heart and mind couldn't seem to quiet down.
This morning, still feeling the residual of all those racing thoughts, I decided to try an experiment. Since the world's noise felt overwhelming, I wondered what it would be like to drive to St. Andrew's in complete silence? Could thirty-five minutes without podcasts, news, phone calls, or music make a difference?
After gathering my things, I climbed into my truck, set my phone to "Driving Mode" to block incoming calls, and began my journey. The first thing I noticed was how quiet my truck actually is, even with traffic rushing past.
The second discovery was more profound—I noticed things I'd never seen before, despite making this drive over a thousand times. I found myself driving five to ten miles per hour slower, no longer feeling rushed or hurried.
Here's what silence revealed:
A handwritten sign leaning against Ganahl Lumber's overflowing dumpster: "Don't dump trash in the dumpster. The dumpster is full." That’s some solid advice.
A "Support Your Local Wizard" bumper sticker on a car driven by a man with an impressively long beard.
The gentle sound of raindrops on my truck's roof as I drove through the canyon.
The Welcome to San Juan Capistrano sign, noting the city's population of 35,000.
That San Juan has three freeway exits while San Clemente has six.
A Family Assistance Ministries truck exiting Pico Avenue ahead of me that read, "Powered by the LaPlant Family."
But here's the most important discovery: I noticed space opening in my heart and mind.
In that spaciousness, people and situations naturally surfaced—concerns I'd been carrying, things that needed attention, challenges facing our community, and people I knew were struggling. As each arose, I offered them silently in prayer to God. My drive transformed into a holy moment.
When I arrived at St. Andrew's, something had shifted. My heart felt calmer, my mind clearer. I wasn't rushed or scattered. Peace had settled in my spirit as I walked toward our church doors.
This experience reminded me that when the world feels chaotic and overwhelming, the answer isn't to add more noise to our souls. When life feels like "too much," we might need to practice the discipline of subtraction—quieting what we can and creating space for the sacred. (This was the wise advice from Emily’s column two weeks ago - you can read it here.)
I'm reminded of Elijah's encounter with God in 1 Kings 19. The divine presence wasn't found in the earthquake, wind, or fire—all the dramatic, noisy manifestations we might expect. Instead, Elijah encountered God in what the text calls "a sound of sheer silence."
In our noise-saturated world, silence can be an act of faith. It requires courage to turn off the constant stream of information and stimulation. Yet in that quiet space, we often discover what we've been searching for all along—the still, small voice of God.
Today, I invite you to find your own moment of holy silence. Perhaps it will be during your drive home, in your morning coffee ritual, or while walking around the block. Wherever you are, trust that in the silence, God is present with us.
With God’s Peace,
Pastor Karl
