I recently enjoyed a much-needed vacation to Hilton Head Island. I was blessed to spend some time relaxing on the beach and bike-riding on the trails through the pine trees and live oaks. The beach was fairly empty, with only a handful of people setting up their chairs and umbrellas each day. At times it felt like I was the only person for miles. Occasionally, however, a group of beach-goers would turn on a radio and the sounds of the music would drift my way. There were also quite a few people sporting their earbuds, likely listening to music or podcasts. I kept wondering, “Why can’t they just enjoy the sounds of the waves as they lap at the shoreline or the sounds of the birds calling to one another?”
Every day I rode my bicycle to the harbor, a great gathering spot with an iconic lighthouse, shops, restaurants, rocking chairs, and a nearby playground. At the playground, each day I saw happy children running and climbing on the playsets, while their parents sat on benches, totally engrossed in whatever they were doing on their phones. Their children were playing and laughing, and the parents were missing it. I watched for a while; the adults seldom looked up. As a mom of now grown children, I’d give anything to go back to the days when my babies were climbing up the monkey bars and sailing down the slides.
What is it about us as humans that we can no longer just be present without some form of noise or distraction? Why can’t we just sit in our beach chairs and look out across the waters, with no phone or music or even a book? Why can’t we sit and enjoy watching our children playing, reveling in their innocent joy and precious laughter–or better yet, why don’t we get up and play with them?
While I did take both my phone and a book to the beach, I tried to make it a point to put them both away and just sit. Observe. Contemplate. What I noticed was that it was difficult; it was as though my brain didn’t know what it was supposed to be doing. At first, there were thoughts of things going on back home and projects I needed to be working on. I worked to shut those off. Then there was…..nothing. I don’t know how to describe it, but I really wasn’t thinking about anything. I had hoped that the quiet moments at the beach would provide some inspiration for more writing, but I couldn’t even think of anything to write about. (Which ironically has become what I’m writing about.)
So I began to take notice of my surroundings–I mean, really take notice. I spent long periods of time watching the birds on the shore and the way they moved across the sand. I took time to watch dolphins, who often appeared to be playing as they rose up and down in the water. I stared intently at the sand beside my chair as the water came in and out, creating wavy patterns in the sand that sparkled when the sun hit them. Forcing myself to be observant and to ponder the beauty of the things around me began to bring scripture to mind.
I watched the tide come in and go out each day, and thought how remarkable it is that God Himself stops the tide from coming further each day, so that the beach and the land are not consumed. Job 38:10-11 says, “‘And I placed boundaries on it, And set a bolt and doors, And I said, ‘Thus far you shall come, but no farther; And here shall your proud waves stop’?” I marveled at the expanse of the sea before me and how God’s love and mercy is far greater. “He will again have compassion on us; He will tread our iniquities under foot. Yes, You will cast all their sins Into the depths of the sea.” Micah 7:19
It took nearly five days, but finally my mind began to awaken. Suddenly I was able to consider not only the character and greatness of God displayed in nature, but also some of the big concepts presented in the book I was reading. (It was fiction, but presented themes of salvation and the philosophy of truth and beauty.) I was present in the moment. My mind was right there, taking it all in. Pondering it. Marveling at it.
Why is it so difficult for us to be truly present? The folks who were listening to music or podcasts on the beach–they couldn’t have been fully present. Their minds were thinking about the conversations or songs they were listening to, and those thoughts likely led to other thoughts…memories triggered by a song, opinions about current political issues, etc. I’m willing to bet they were NOT thinking about the ocean and wondering if it looked just like that when the first settlers arrived on the shores of the island. Or what about the adults at the playground who were so occupied on their phones while the children played? They obviously weren’t present. Not only were they missing out on the joy of watching their children at play, they were missing out on potential hazards or injuries.
I’m quite certain there is a mountain of scientific research and data regarding the changes in our brains in recent years. We have shorter attention spans and we typically do not enjoy silence. We need white noise to sleep and we need music to drive. We keep the television on at all hours just for the background noise. Some elevators have music playing. The waiting room at the doctor’s office has the television on. We have filled every space possible with some kind of noise or distraction so much so that when we find ourselves somewhere truly silent, we start to fidget and squirm as if our brains have no idea what they are supposed to do. What are we avoiding? Why are we uncomfortable with our thoughts? Whatever the reasons, we’ve also drowned out the voice of God in the process of filling our every waking minute with noise.
Most of us know the verse “be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10), but there are many other scriptures that admonish us to be quiet and still. Lamentations 3:26 says, “It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.” Job 6:24 tells us “Teach me, and I will be silent; make me understand how I have gone astray.” We aren’t very teachable when we lack the ability to be quiet, to listen, to engage in the moment with whatever the Lord has for us. You probably know the first part of Psalm 4:4–”Be angry and do not sin.” But listen to the next sentence: “ponder in your own hearts on your beds, and be silent.” We can’t ponder when we aren’t still and silent. We can’t ponder the events of the day and what God might be doing in our lives. We can’t ponder our motives or examine our hearts. We can’t ponder “big ideas” like truth, beauty, love, or the sovereignty of God.
My list of 23 things for 2023 (things I wanted to do or accomplish this year) included making more time for silence. Sadly, in such a noisy world, we have to be intentional about carving out space for silence. We have to be willing to be uncomfortable at first, to resist the urge to look at our phones or turn on the television. One of the easiest places for me to find silence is in the car. If you still have kids you are shuffling around, or even elderly loved ones you are transporting at times, this may not work for you. But I’m willing to bet you do have a few moments in the car with just you and God. Try to avoid turning on the radio, catching up on your podcasts, or making some phone calls. Just drive. Sit in the silence. And maybe don’t even have an “agenda” for the silence. Just be. Silent. And see what comes to mind. If your mind goes straight to the next thing on your “to do list,” divert your thoughts away from that because those thoughts are taking you to the “next thing” not the current thing. Thinking about the “next thing” is not being fully present in the moment.
Let’s create a movement where we all work to be fully present.
