The silent treatment.
A false reprieve. Passive aggression. The worst kind of tension.
There is so much that needs to be said in the pursuit of peace. And yet with willful determination, everything is muzzled into pressurized coexistence.
No clarifying perspectives, no humble apologies, no gentle rebukes. No resolution.
I despise the awful space at the receiving end. And to be honest, I have often dominated in the dreadful dishing out.
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On the other hand ...
Silence.
A holy pause. Intentional margin to listen and remain calm. Collected.
There is so much that could be said in the name of profuse progress. And yet, with willful determination, everything is muted into an expanse of hallowed hush.
No cluttering preferences, no weighing of options, no confirmation nor denial. Only resolute faith.
I resist this posture of patience. And to be quite honest, I don't practice it enough.
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People who have yet to properly process their own hurt are masters of the silent treatment. Soundly driven, the wedge forces relationships further apart and deeper into despair.
People who are mastering the disciplines of being quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry can confidently offer the gift of silence. Quietly we are drawn into more of God's presence where healing and hope abide.
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And all the people aside ... when I think of how easily and how often I treat the powerful stillness of God as if it were some petty silent treatment … I weep.
He is never far and His purposes are pure and kind. He cannot fail.
I will not fear the silence.
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