If only you would be altogether silent!
For you, that would be wisdom. (Job 13:5)
A problem with loud time is that it's, well, loud. By championing loud time I don't mean to insinuate that people don't need times of quiet--times where they simply listen to God, times where they simply exist. I ran across a nice conversation about praying between Mother Teresa and an interviewer: "What do you say?" She replied, "Nothing. I just listen." The interviewer countered, "Well, what does God say?" "Nothing," she replied. "He just listens."
She's deep. I don't even know what she means, that's how deep that is. I don't even know where I read it, that's how inscrutable that is.
I must confess, I'm drawn to this verse from the book of Job mostly because I think it'll be funny to throw at the authors I edit when I think they're rambling. But it's a pretty arresting thought in any context. Here Job confronts somebody who's trying to make him feel guilty for no good reason. But later he realizes he's offended God, so he turns the idea on himself:
I am unworthy—how can I reply to you?
I put my hand over my mouth. (Job 40:4)
How often am I being loud just for the sake of reassuring myself that I still exist? I choose assertion over the simple pleasure of existence.
Oh great, now I've got the song "Let My Words Be Few" in my head. I'll just have to switch over to Common: "I just wanna be . . . be . . . be . . . be . . . be."