Earlier this year we attended church with our son and his wife who live in another province. We enjoyed the entire service but one part of it stood out for me. Although I can鈥檛 remember his exact words, the acting pastor asked members of the congregation to call out the name of one of their favourite hymns; since I am a lover of the traditional songs of praise, I found this both informative and refreshing.
There were the usual joyous songs of praise: 鈥淎t the Cross鈥� and 鈥淕lory to His Name鈥�; songs of hope such as 鈥淲hen we all get to heaven鈥� and 鈥淥h Beulah Land鈥�, and of course, the beautiful worship songs such as 鈥淛esus, the very thought of thee鈥� and 鈥淔airest Lord Jesus鈥�. Although I didn鈥檛 call out any titles, many others crossed my mind and thrilled my heart. It was one called out by our son, however, that really got me thinking. 鈥淏lessed quietness鈥�, he announced and immediately there was a collective moment of unsolicited silence. I haven鈥檛 forgotten that moment and the impact of his response.
I have always lived in a high-energy mode, whether it was in parenting, operating my own business, church involvement or community volunteerism. Too often 鈥渂lessed quietness鈥� ranked as a luxury rather than a necessity.
My husband鈥檚 recent health challenges, along with a conscious decision to limit my writing to these columns, a monthly opinion piece for a provincial agricultural publication and the occasional article for a local magazine, brought an enforced slowing of my activities. At first it was painful, now I鈥檓 wondering how I ever lived without time to enjoy solitude and serenity.
I鈥檓 also learning, in more than theological terms, the meaning of Jesus鈥� instruction to his disciples: 鈥淐ome ye apart and rest awhile鈥�.
Blessed quietness, holy quietness, what assurance to my soul
