The night brings me an intimate invitation: Be still and know that I am God (Psalm 46:10).
The small ones who seek my attention often at last are sleeping and the noise of the day is no more; in the quiet I hear His still, small voice (1 Kings 19:12) beckoning me.
There is at night, a stillness that comes in on the darkness and invites me to pause, to listen, to seek, and to know. It urges me to release the day and its demands and worries and to be still.
In this stillness, truth whispers like shadows that sway beneath the moon. In this stillness, promises rise like mist in the night. In this stillness, my heart breathes deep His presence and knows Him.
Even so, it seeks to know Him more. To know Him intimately.
His words that are rooted in my heart create a sense of belonging but also of longing.
In the quiet stillness these words of truth I have hidden in my heart and have clung to both in light and in darkness ripple and echo like the air stirred by a butterfly’s wings. Their promise and strength are far reaching and always close.
He guides me like a good shepherd.
He knows me because He knit me together in my mother’s womb.
He knows the words I will speak before they are upon my tongue.
He is always with me.
He will never leave me nor forsake me.
He is my joy and my strength.
He is my second chance, my do over, my opportunity to try again.
He is everything I need and the giver of all that I have.
He is my treasure and my true north.
He is my rest and my renewal.
He knows my needs and cares for me, inviting me to cast every burden upon His shoulders.
His voice is my sacred space and in it I find the truth of His promises and the awe of His presence.
In the stillness, I am His because there is nothing more than this. The darkness, the stillness, this moment is divine and I am wrapped in His holiness and grace.
Those whispers always are the gift I seek, the treasure for which I yearn. And it is in the stillness of now that I hear Him calling me to Himself: Come, and I will give you rest (Matthew 11:28).