Randy Wray’s Blog

Here’s another contribution from my friend Danny:

During my four years at Abilene Christian University I was part of a traveling singing group called, “His Singers.” There were sixteen of us in the group and we traveled all over America singing and leading worship.

One of our trips took us through the beautiful states of Arkansas, Tennessee and Kentucky. One night we sang for a church in a small Kentucky town. Following the concert, we divided up into two’s and four’s and went to the homes of our hosts for the evening.

The sun was almost gone, slowly setting behind the beautiful Kentucky hills as we made the 20-minute trip to the home where we would spend the night. It had been a long day of traveling and a fine night of singing. I remember sinking into the car’s comfortable cushions and thinking how beautiful everything was.

The next morning, after a wonderful night of deep, dreamless sleep, I awoke before the others and went out onto the front porch to watch the day begin. We were out in the country. The morning was cool and crisp, the ground was covered with dew, a hazy hint of fog filled the little valley just below the house. I will never forget the sense of peace, the pleasure of the solitude, the quiet of that moment.

I heard the door open and I turned to see our host holding two cups of coffee, one for me and one for her. Struck with the serenity of the setting I said, “I bet you love it out here. I can‚Äôt get over how quiet and peaceful it is.” She shook her head and said, “No, I can’t stand the quiet. I have to keep the radio or the TV on or I’d go nuts.”

Over the last twenty-five years, I’ve thought about that woman and our conversation. I guess, if I’m to be completely honest, I feel sorry for her and her inability to “stand the quiet.” It reminds me of a rarely practiced spiritual discipline called meditation.

Meditation. It brings to mind an image of someone sitting on the floor amid flickering candles and smoldering incense. Legs crossed, eyes closed, they are wearing loose fitting pajamas and they are chanting. Their goal is to empty their mind and become completely detached from the world.

That’s one form of meditation but it‚Äôs not an accurate picture of the practice of Christian meditation. Not even close.

Think of meditation in these terms - listening and obeying. That’s what Christian meditation is all about, being still. Listening for the voice of God and then being faithful to his guidance.

But many of us can’t stand the quiet. Our radios come on as soon as we turn the key in our cars. The TV comes on as soon as we enter the house - because, like that host of twenty-five years ago, we can’t stand the quiet.

Meditation ‚Äì let’s take a run at it. Or, maybe I should say, let’s sit still and give it a try. You see, it’s not about running. It’s about being still. As the Psalmist wrote, ‚ÄúBe still and know that God is God.‚Äù (Psalm 46:10)

And with this knowing, in the stillness and the quiet, be open to his guidance and faithful to his call.