It’s a description. A noun. A command. A miracle, really.
I’m not sure when the phrase “quiet time” became defined by the perfect chair illuminated by the perfect light at the perfect time of day, flanked by the journal that has the perfect paper to capture our thoughts as we study the perfect set of Scriptures or chapters from a book.
I worry that we’ve limited the divinity of time quieted by God to an obligation or Pinterest-ready toolkit sure to deliver a perfect experience. In doing so, it becomes a religious practice that isn’t exclusive to those of us who call ourselves Jesus-followers. For centuries, people have pursued solitude, meditation, prayer, sacred spaces as tools in their search for the something that will set their souls at ease.
And all the while, God says, “That something isn’t a thing to find—it’s a gift to receive.” He holds our souls in His hand. He quiets them on our behalf. And He invites us into the miracles and liberty that await us in His quieting power.
It Begins With the Miracle of His Voice.
Quiet time is a garden in the cool of the afternoon, and the glorious God of eternity calling our name because He loves to hear our voice. That’s how it began with Him—simple walks and a good day’s conversation. He breathed life into humanity and found His joy in that everyday life.
It was in the garden of Eden that He called, and humanity hid, angry and ashamed and overwhelmed. And so, it often is with us. God calls and we hide. We let the days get the best of us. We grow frustrated that things are not going according to plan or that a child’s not cooperating or that our weight on the scales is not as it should be or that there is never enough of all that is needed to make our lives more than enough.
And all the while God calls. He says, “I’m here, ready for a good conversation—in the kitchen or closet or backyard or car. You’ll find a garden awaits.” No, He doesn’t mind. He understands. As Father, He knows the weight of a million little things. He knows our limitations. As Redeemer, He knows the days that nobody understands. As Savior, He knows the hope so easily crushed. He calls, and He delights in the sound of your voice. Quiet time is God’s own invitation and our simple “yes.” It is a garden and a walk. It is the miracle of a good day’s conversation with the God who delights in us.
It Continues With the Miracle of His Presence.
Selah is an interlude placed in the lyrics of songs written by King David and other wise souls in the book of Psalms. Simply put, it means “pause in His presence.” It means to stop, breathe, observe, consider, reflect, take note.
Psalm 46:10 is a Scripture most Church-going folks know by heart. “Be still and know that I am God.” By itself, it paints a pastoral picture of blue skies, birdsong, quiet streams. But Psalm 46 is anything but peaceful. There is bloodshed, and there is war. Nations rage like gale-force winds. Mountains quake and forests burn. And there, in the midst of it all, God speaks. He doesn’t say, “Escape the chaos so I can talk to you.” Instead, He has the audacity to say, “Calm down in the midst of the crushing chaos. Stop the spiraling. Watch Me be God. Let me show you what it means to quiet time.”
The same God who quiets nations and quiets storms invites us to watch Him quiet time right where we are. Yes, quiet time is the moment in the midst of all the moments that rage around us where we direct our face toward the face of a Father who stands ready to reveal his strength, His power, His love, and His grace to and through us. Quiet time is our Selah, our interlude, our pause in His presence. Quiet time is His gift in return.
Even today. Even right now. For us.
As I think about the meaning and purpose of quiet time, I can’t help but see more and more miracles. God delighting, God rising strong.
Yes, It’s Yet Another Miracle.
One we mustn’t ignore. Our heart comes alive when it feels the heartbeat of another. Time quiets when we hold each other near—when we dwell together in love.
There is nothing as precious as gathering to recount story after story of how our belonging to each other may look like a meal or a message or a smile or simple words uttered in quiet as the time rushes past us, moment by moment—and how that belonging is truly God’s own love in flesh and bone, it is His design wrapped in His design.
And yet, even when we are limited by time and space, we are still together. Pace and place have no power over us. Our love is timeless. Our love is boundless. Time quiets when we hold each other near. And so, dwell.
Dwell with each other in thankful prayer. Your prayers are the words of a song that echoes throughout eternity, shattering shackles and letting lives soar. Walk with each other, savoring each moment you’ve been given as one worth sharing. Speak life to each other, mindful of the picture formed by the linking of your words like stained glass.
Listen to those with news to share. Listen in love. Respond with grace.
Welcome those who you meet on the journey. Eyes wide open and arms outstretched, welcome.
Serve those who find their joy in serving others. Comfort and care and wash weary feet.
Dwell in the good news you have received. Invite others to sit and lean and relax. Speak hope, speak truth, speak life. Belong without reservation. Feel your heart come alive in the heartbeat of another.
Love is timeless. Love is boundless. Time quiets when we hold each other near—and miracles abound.
And Oh Yes, There is the Miracle Found in Embracing the Quiet Moment Itself.
My personal early-morning liturgy is traditionally a little reading, a little writing, a little prayer, and always contemplating at least one thing I’ve discovered in the stillness. But the days don’t always agree with tradition. And that’s when I’m reminded of the real beauty of quiet time—as I savor conversation with the Lord while driving or whisper breath prayers to Him at my desk or consider His goodness at a grocery store or embrace His love when I hug a friend.
God breathes space into the limited moments we offer so we may breathe His life into the days we have been given.
He is ever-present, ever-powerful, ever-attentive to the finest of details.
Most certainly, find the liturgy that suits you. Those rhythms are music for your soul. But remember this: quiet time isn’t just found in the liturgy we design. No, quiet time is found in life itself. Remember, God delights in your voice. Talk to Him. God is strong and ready to reveal His strength and care, even in the midst of chaos. Rest in Him. And God quiets us when we hold each other. Dwell in Him.
Healing, restoration, rebirth, redemption await. Rest for our souls. Wisdom for the days. Kindness for the world around us. He holds our souls in His hand, and He quiets them on our behalf.
Yes, this is the miracle—that quiet time is not bound by map or clock or calendar. It’s not complicated. Miracles rarely are.