I never want to become one of those people who has to fill every possible moment with sound. There’s something so grating about constant chatter — the kind that fills the air just for the sake of filling it. The last few days, I’ve felt like I might go insane from the noise of people who always have something to say about nothing.
Even when I want to add to a conversation, there’s no space to do so. Someone always has to steal the attention, to keep the air busy. Last night at Bible study, it became almost unbearable. Amber was supposed to lead the topic about gossip, but my mom never stopped talking long enough for her to get through a single thought. Every time someone tried to share, she would jump in, taking over again, moving to the next topic before the previous one could even settle.
It drove me mad. Was this about her? Or was it supposed to be about all of us — about communing together around God’s word?
But then I remembered the verses that we were reflecting on:
“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?” — Matthew 7:3
“The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit.” — Proverbs 18:21
Those verses hit me hard. It’s easy to notice the noise around me — to point out the chatter, the interruptions, the need to be heard — and forget the noise that comes from my own heart. My irritation, my silent judgments, my inner dialogue of criticism — that’s its own kind of noise too.
After spending time in the woods, I’ve come to appreciate the kind of silence that holds space — the gentle chatter of nature that doesn’t demand attention, the quiet that makes room for thought and breath. Maybe that’s what God was reminding me of last night: that true silence, like true wisdom, begins with humility.
Maybe instead of resenting the noise, I can practice being the quiet.