Devotion: "The Stillness Where God Dwells"
Devotion: "The Stillness Where God Dwells"
Scripture: “Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10 (NIV)
Tori Rae was ten years old when it happened—a moment tucked away in the folds of an ordinary family vacation to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. The hotel where they stayed was quirky, with bridges connecting different sections and winding staircases that made everything feel like an adventure. But it wasn’t the scenery she remembered most. It was the duck.
Not just any duck—the duck. A feisty, flapping, honking little creature that decided Tori was its mortal enemy. In a panic, she’d sprinted faster than her mind could catch up, trying to escape its determined waddle. She leaped for the safety of a small bridge that connected two parts of the hotel. But instead of landing on solid wood, she overshot the mark and crashed onto the sidewalk below.
What happened next wasn’t a grand, cinematic event with bright lights or angel choirs. It was… quiet. Just quiet. Tori found herself hovering in a dark, still space, watching the scene below as if she were a whisper floating on the edges of reality. No warmth. No cold. No noise. Just stillness.
At first, she was curious. But then fear crept in—not fear of where she was, but fear that her mom might be upset she’d somehow “jumped out of her body.” That small, childlike thought—so simple, so real—snapped her back. She dove into herself, gasping awake, surrounded by her family’s frantic voices and the muffled chaos of people rushing to help.
Years later, Tori would look back on that memory, not as a brush with death, but as a sacred encounter with stillness. It wasn’t empty. It wasn’t lonely. It was simply there. And in that profound quiet, God had been there too—not in loud declarations or flashing signs, but in the very essence of stillness itself.
The Lesson:
Sometimes, we think God only shows up in the miracles—the parting of seas, the blinding lights, the thunderclaps from heaven. But more often, God meets us in the quiet spaces we overlook. In fear. In stillness. In the breath between panic and peace. His presence doesn’t require grand gestures; it simply is.
When life feels loud, chaotic, or overwhelming, remember: God isn’t waiting for you to shout louder or try harder. He’s already there—in the stillness, in the silence, in the pause.
Prayer:
Dear God, thank You for being present even in the quiet, unseen spaces of my life. When I feel lost, afraid, or overwhelmed, remind me that Your presence isn’t limited to big moments. You are with me in the stillness, in the simple breath I take, in the heartbeat I sometimes forget to notice. Teach me to find You not just in miracles, but in the quiet where Your love gently whispers, “I am here.” Amen.
Advice:
Don’t be afraid of the quiet. In fact, seek it out. Take a few moments each day to be still—no music, no phone, no distractions. Just breathe. Let the silence speak. Because in that sacred pause, you might just hear the faintest echo of God’s voice, reminding you that you are never alone.
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