Welcome,
Friend,
To The Gift of Sacred Rest,
The Lenten Season.
I'm Tanya Murphy of Rest in His Presence,
And this week we will focus on the Rest of Silence.
Before we begin,
I want to invite you to settle in wherever you are.
If you're seated,
Allow your feet to rest flat on the floor.
Soften your shoulders.
Let your hands rest upon your lap.
Take one slow breath in and release it completely.
And another.
You don't have to arrive perfectly.
You just have to arrive,
And you already have.
This is a space where you don't need to perform,
Produce,
Or prove anything.
This is a space to rest.
To be still.
To be held.
Our scripture today comes from the Psalms.
I want to offer it to you slowly as an invitation rather than an instruction.
Be still and know that I am God.
Psalm 46 and 10.
Let those words land wherever they need to land in you.
Silence,
For most of us,
Is not comfortable.
Not at first.
We live in a world that fills every gap.
Notifications,
Noise,
The endless churn of information.
Even in our most private moments,
There's an inner voice narrating,
Planning,
Rehearsing,
Worrying.
We've become so practiced at noise that silence can feel like something is wrong.
But the Psalms offers a different understanding.
Be still.
Not as a command to perform,
But as an invitation to receive.
You see,
Silence isn't empty.
Silence is where God speaks most clearly.
It's where we stop filling space with our own voice long enough to hear something deeper.
In silence,
We stop fixing things.
We stop explaining ourselves.
We stop holding ourselves together by sheer effort.
And we allow ourselves to be held by the one who has already been holding us.
There's something profound in the phrase,
Be still and know.
Not be still and figure it out.
Not be still and make a plan.
But know.
A knowing that doesn't come from striving.
It comes from stopping.
In Hebrew,
The word for be still carries the meaning of letting go,
Releasing the grip.
It's what happens when you stop white knuckling your way through life and allow your hands to open.
Let's return to the scripture once more.
This time,
Receive it as a personal address.
As if God is speaking directly to you.
Be still and know that I am God.
Rest here as long as you need.
Now I want to gently guide you inward.
Notice what's present in you right now.
Not to judge it,
Just to notice.
Is there noise?
Anxiety?
A running to-do list?
An unresolved conversation?
Whatever is here,
Let it be here.
You don't have to fix it or fight it.
Simply acknowledge it and then set it down.
Like placing something heavy on a table beside you.
It will still be there when you leave.
But right now,
You don't have to carry it.
Now let your breath become your anchor.
Breathe in slowly and breathe out completely.
In the silence that follows,
I want to invite you to simply be present.
Not to fill this space with words,
Even good words,
Even prayerful words.
Just presence.
God is here.
You don't have to summon him.
He is already here.
Let's hear these words one final time.
Be still and know that I am God.
As we gently return,
I want to offer you one question to carry with you.
Not to answer right now,
But to hold.
What might God be saying to you in the quiet?
Not what you think he should be saying.
Not what you've been trying to hear.
But in the actual quiet of this moment,
What is present?
You may want to take a moment to write something down after we close.
Sometimes the quiet leaves a gift we don't want to lose.
Now take one more slow,
Full breath.
As you return to your day,
Carry this with you.
You have been in the presence of God.
And his presence doesn't end when this recording does.
The stillness you've touched today,
It's available to you.
In a breath.
In a pause.
In the space between one moment and the next.
You are held.
You are known.
You are not required to hold yourself together.
Go gently,
Friend.
May goodness and mercy follow you.
