Chasing Quiet
What silencing my phone taught me about silencing my mind
I don’t remember exactly when it was, but one day not that long ago when I felt the familiar buzz-buzz on my wrist alerting me to an incoming notification on my phone, I was done. I was done feeling that buzz dozens of times a day, done feeling like I had to respond immediately to whatever that buzz represented, done feeling overwhelmed and stressed by it. We were about to go on a family vacation, so it seemed like the perfect time to shut off distractions. I started searching for a plain old analog watch on Amazon, and when I told Stephen I was thinking of ditching my Apple Watch, he said, “What if you just turned off the notifications?”
Hmm. You can do that?
Yes, of course you can, so I did. I kept phone call notifications because I figured if anyone was calling me, I’d want to (or have to) talk to them, and I also kept text notifications. I disabled everything else.
The next day, my watch happily alerted me to the time but otherwise stayed blissfully absent from my consciousness. But at one point I realized I was feeling what I can only describe as “phantom buzzes”--the feeling that my watch was vibrating to tell me about a new notification, but when I checked, there was nothing there (apparently this is an actual phenomenon called “phantom vibration syndrome;” see here). I found it more than a little disturbing that apparently my brain was so wired to anticipate these interruptions that it made them up when they stopped occurring.
While we were on our trip, I noticed how freeing it was not to feel so tethered to my phone. Sure, I still carried it with me everywhere, but I wasn’t hyper aware of every single notification that popped up on the screen. It turned out that as much as I felt a need to respond to people immediately, people didn’t need me to do so. I became uncomfortably aware of how often I felt compelled to pick up my phone, and I resolved to do it less.
A few weeks earlier, I sat in my Life Group at church and shared how the new medication I was taking was helping with depression. “I’m amazed at how much quieter my mind is,” I told them, smiling through grateful tears. Quiet was never an adjective I would have chosen to describe my mind. Chaotic, noisy, and overactive were all much more apt descriptions. I often felt as though my thoughts were my greatest enemy, my biggest threat to survival, but what do you do when your biggest threat lives inside of you? The despair of not knowing how to turn off the accusations, the shame, and the sadness was all-consuming. I often joked that I needed a brain transplant, such was my conviction that the only way to “fix” me was to replace my brain with someone else’s. Mine was irreparably defective. But somehow, in some way I don’t pretend to understand, the thoughts that plagued me all hours of the day and night were not as loud as they used to be. In their place was…peace.
Hmm. Is peace really possible--for me?
Yes, of course it is.
One thing I have noticed as I read the gospels is how loud Jesus’ life was. He was surrounded by people all the time. They followed him, they pleaded with him to feed them, they tugged at his clothing in desperation, they woke him from slumber. (Basically, they were all a bunch of toddlers.) Is it any wonder he took whatever moments he could to seek out a quiet place? Is it any wonder that he needed quiet communion with the Father? And if he needed the quiet, how much more so do I—with all my limits and lack of divinity—need it?
I have often dreaded times of quiet because I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts. I don’t like the opportunity for my thoughts to be the loudest thing in the room, and when there’s no external noise, that’s exactly what happens. It’s why I always listen to music or a podcast in the car, why I don’t even like taking a shower without some type of noise, and why even at night when I am trying to sleep I must have soft music or white noise to help me sleep. But recently, the more I have thought about quiet, the more I have wanted to seek it. Not for its own virtue but because of what it opens up in me.
I’ve taken to keeping the music off when I’m driving home from work. I let the quiet fill my car and relax my mind, and I pray. When I’m awake in the middle of the night (which is often) and the quiet seems deafening, I work to lean into the quiet and ask the Lord to let me feel his presence.
A couple of months ago I started praying a simple prayer every day: “Lord, I want to be close to you. Show me how.” I think I’m beginning to see the answer.
When I am quiet, I am asking the Lord to fill the silence with more of him. When I am quiet, I am surrendering my desire for comfort to my desire to know Jesus better. When I am quiet, I am giving myself the chance to listen instead of speak, to reflect instead of react, to pray instead of panic. When I am quiet, I am joining with countless Christ followers before me who also determined to “calm and quiet1” their souls, to “aspire to live quietly2,” to find strength in “quietness and trust3.” Does the quiet itself save me? No. Is the quiet itself virtuous? No. But I know that when I’m working to be quiet, I’m not working to fix things I can’t fix or control things I was never meant to control. When I’m working to be quiet I’m not saying empty words or filling the void with mindless scrolling or spinning my anxious thoughts into a doom spiral. In the quiet, I’m opening my hands to the Lord, asking for the grace to receive whatever he brings to me. And here, with open hands, he gives me himself.
What about you? Do you fear the quiet? How have you seen the Lord draw near to you in the quiet?
Psalm 131:2
1 Thessalonians 4:11
Isaiah 30:15
Great post, Erin. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed & overstimulated, and then I realize, "Duh! You're listening to a podcast while the kids are around!" It's no wonder I feel like there's too much noise. Ha!
What an amazing and timely post. I can relate to so much of what you said. You have helped me more accurately see what I have been experiencing. Thank you. I pray I can recapture the quiet and what it can bring. ❤️