Reflection 44: Learning to Love Silence

Silence is something many of us are not used to.

We live in a world filled with constant noise. Music, podcasts, prayers, audiobooks, conversations. Even when things are quiet, we often reach for something to fill the space. And if we are honest, silence can make us uncomfortable. It can feel unproductive, even empty.

This Lent, I committed to praying the Liturgy of the Hours in the morning and evening.

And I failed quickly.

Not because I did not care, but because life is busy. Mornings are rushed. Evenings are full. Between work, family time, and trying to be present for my wife and kids, it felt like I was trying to force something new into an already full schedule.

But in that failure, I realized something important.

I do not have a time problem. I have a noise problem.

Even in the quiet moments I do have, I tend to fill them. During my commute, I listen to podcasts. I pray the rosary. I follow along with devotional content like the Bible in a Year or Catechism in a Year. All of these are good things.

But even good things can become noise.

I started to ask myself a simple question.

When do I actually listen to God?

Not listen to someone talk about Him.
Not listen to teachings about the faith.
But truly sit and listen.

And the honest answer was… rarely.

That realization changed my approach.

Instead of trying to add more to my routine, I decided to do less. I began using my commute not as a time to consume more, but as a time to be still. To sit in silence. To let the distractions settle and create space for God to speak.

Because silence is not empty.

It is where God speaks.

It is where our thoughts slow down enough for us to recognize His voice. It is where we can bring our distractions, our worries, and our questions before Him and simply ask, “Lord, redirect me.”

And sometimes that is the only prayer we need.

This shift has not been easy. Silence requires discipline. It requires letting go of the need to always be doing something. It requires trust that God is present, even when we do not immediately feel or hear anything.

But it is already changing me.

It is helping me become more attentive. More grounded. More aware of God’s presence in the middle of ordinary moments.

It has also reminded me of something simple but important.

Every relationship requires intentional time.

If I never spent one on one time with my wife, our relationship would suffer. We would feel disconnected. Distant. Out of sync.

The same is true in our relationship with Christ.

We cannot only speak to Him in passing or fill every moment with external input. We need time with Him. Quiet, intentional, undistracted time.

So this Lent, I am learning something new.

Not how to do more.
But how to be still.

To sit in silence.
To listen.
And to trust that God is speaking, even in the quiet.