I pray that as this weekend unfolds you would find small moments to breathe, to slow down, and to remember that you are deeply loved by God. A couple of weeks ago, during our preaching series on pray we talked about the importance of intentionally seeking the presence of God—going to the sacred place rather than hoping to stumble into it. This week, I want to continue that journey by talking about two practices that are simple, yet strangely difficult in our busy world: silence and solitude.
Most of us don't naturally choose silence or solitude. Our world runs at a volume level that rarely dips below “loud,” and when it does, we often reach instinctively for the noise—scrolling, music, TV, podcasts, something to fill the empty space. Yet throughout Scripture, we see God’s people discovering that the quiet places are where God reshapes them most deeply.
One of my favourite illustrations of this comes from the life of Jesus Himself. Before choosing the disciples, before feeding the 5,000, before walking on water, before facing the cross Jesus slipped away to lonely places to pray. Imagine that: the Son of God, who never lacked clarity or purpose, sensed the need to step back, breathe, and be alone with His Father. If Jesus needed it, then surely, we do as well.
I’m reminded of a story about a man who visited a famous violin maker. The craftsman kept a block of wood on his bench—ordinary, unfinished. “Why keep that old thing?” the visitor asked. The violin maker smiled and said, “Whenever I feel rushed or careless, I stop and pick up this block. It reminds me that the best violins aren’t made in a hurry.”
Silence and solitude do exactly that for our souls. They remind us that spiritual life isn’t mass-produced. Depth takes time. Peace grows slowly. Spiritual maturity can’t be microwaved. But let’s be honest, silence can be uncomfortable. Solitude can feel unproductive. Sitting quietly with God doesn’t come naturally, especially when our to-do list is buzzing in our pockets. Yet these practices don’t exist to make us feel holy, they exist to make us whole.
Think of them as “spiritual breathing room.” In silence, God untangles the thoughts we’ve knotted up. In solitude, God shows us what we’ve been too distracted to notice. In the quiet, God speaks, not always with words, but often with peace, clarity, conviction, or simply His calming presence.
Let me encourage you with something simple this weekend: find five minutes. Yes, just five, where you sit quietly with God. No agenda. No requests. No background noise. Just you and Him. You may be surprised by how loudly God can speak when everything else finally gets quiet. As a church, we long to be people shaped not by the world’s pace but by God’s presence. Silence and solitude are the doorway. They aren’t escapes from the world they’re where God equips us to return to the world with renewed strength, gentler words, clearer vision, and a fuller heart.
Church, I’m praying for you this week, that you would find your sacred quiet, not as an obligation but as an invitation. May the God who met Elijah—not in the wind, or the earthquake, or the fire, but in the gentle whisper—meet you in your moments of stillness.
With love, David Peñate
