Stillness in Prayer

 `“Be still, and know that I am God;

I will be exalted among the nations,

    I will be exalted in the earth.”

    The Lord Almighty is with us;

    the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Psalm 46: 10, 11

We often think of prayer as talking—but listening is just as vital.  In the sacred space of prayer, stillness is strength. It’s surrender. It’s trust. Psalm 46:10 doesn’t just invite us to pause; it commands us to be still. And in that stillness, we come to know God.

 When we pause, when we sit in silence, when we reflect on Scripture or wait for the Spirit’s prompting, we open ourselves to hear God’s voice. That’s where transformation happens—not just in what we say, but in what we receive.

if we stop at seeing prayer as talking, we miss something vital. Prayer is not just expression; it’s reception. It’s not just pouring out—it’s also taking in. Listening is where intimacy deepens. It’s where we stop striving and start receiving.

A monologue is one-sided—just us speaking, venting, or reciting words into the air. But prayer, in its truest form, is a dialogue. It’s a living, breathing exchange between the human heart and the divine. When we pray, we’re not just expressing ourselves—we’re entering into communion with God.

God is not a silent audience. He is an active participant. He listens, yes—but He also speaks. God rarely shouts. He whispers. He nudges. He speaks through Scripture, through the quiet of our hearts, through the peace that settles when we pause. 

Elijah didn’t find God in the wind, earthquake, or fire—but in the gentle whisper (1 Kings 19:12). Listening in prayer means creating space for that whisper.  God’s voice isn’t thunderous—it’s subtle, like a whisper in the stillness. Elijah’s encountered God in the “still small voice”.

When we pray, we’re not just expressing emotion—we’re engaging with the Creator of the universe. Prayer has power. It invites God’s presence, aligns our hearts with His will, and opens the door for transformation. It’s not a whisper into nothingness—it’s a cry that echoes in the throne room of heaven.

Stillness in prayer is not the absence of words—it’s the presence of God. It’s the moment when we stop striving, stop explaining, stop performing, and simply rest. It’s where we let go of control and lean into the truth that God is sovereign, faithful, and near.

Silence is not absence—it’s direction. A lack of answer may itself be an answer. God may be saying “wait”.  The silence of God is not neglect. It is invitation. To trust. To wait. To be still and know. 

To be still is to say: “I don’t have all the answers, but I know the One who does.” “I don’t see the way forward, but I trust the One who leads.” “I don’t feel strong, but I rest in the One who is.” When we stop speaking, we start listening.  In silence, we do not hear God with our ears—we feel Him with our being.

In the stillness, we listen. We breathe. We wait. And we discover that God is not silent—He is speaking in the quiet. His peace whispers louder than our chaos. His presence fills the space our words leave behind. More often, God whispers in the hush between heartbeats.

So today, let your prayer begin with stillness. Let it be a sacred pause. A holy hush. A moment to know—not just believe but know—that He is God. That He is with you; and that He is enough.

 

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Pastor Godwin, FBC Danvers