Welcome back, friends. Recently, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the small ways faith weaves into daily life. Tonight’s reflection comes from a very simple experiment I tried one quiet morning on my deck…

One morning last week, I tried a little experiment during my morning devotions. The summer heat has finally broken, so I was sitting on my deck in a rocking chair enjoying the refreshing morning, watching the red maple tree nearby. Its leaves quivered in the light breeze, sunlight dappling across them in shifting patches. Simply sitting quietly, just watching, was unexpectedly calming.

So I asked Siri to set a timer for two minutes, put my phone down, and let myself be still. At the end of those two minutes, I discovered two things: first, it felt oddly unsettling not to have my phone in my hand—resisting the urge to check my screen. And second, after only two minutes, my mind felt refreshed. I’m certain that if I’d checked my blood pressure, it would have dropped.

At the top of this page, you can see the 10-second video that I recorded on that morning.

Here in rural North Carolina, rocking chairs on porches and decks are almost a way of life. Their gentle swaying invites you to slow down. Two dear friends of mine often welcome me to their porch at sunset. Our area is known for its breathtaking skies, and watching the colors unfold together feels like a form of worship. I sometimes think that anyone who can’t understand the joy of quietly watching a sunset is missing one of God’s clearest signatures.

It reminds me of Elijah, who sought proof of God’s presence.

11 The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. 12 After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. (1 Kings 9:11-12)

Elijah discovered God wasn’t in the roaring wind or the earthquake, but in the softest whisper that followed.

Since moving here, one of the greatest blessings I’ve received is the appreciation of silence.

Silence strips away distractions—phones, televisions, even traffic—and creates space for us to notice.

At first, you become aware of your own wandering thoughts. Ping ponging between past and future with no coherent train other than worry.

But sit long enough, and you move beyond the chaos into a greater awareness of the stillness in this present moment: the way the breeze stirs the leaves, the way sunlight shadows the clouds, the way the world whispers that beauty surrounds us. And in that stillness, outside of ourselves, is where we finally hear God.

I believe God is always with us, never leaving our side for even a moment. But like Elijah’s whisper, His presence is often easiest to discern in silence—when we allow ourselves time and space to be still.

What I discovered the other day is that it doesn’t take a grand effort. Start as I did, with as little as two minutes. Set a timer, put your phone down, and let yourself simply be quiet.

There in the silence, you may find that you, too, hear God.

God bless you.

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