The Stillness Within

“Be still, and know that I am God.”—Psalm 46:10 (NKJV)

The news that shattered my world arrived through Facebook.

My son Curtis was dead.

In one unimaginable moment, the ground beneath me disappeared. A storm of questions, disbelief, anger, and sorrow rushed in before I had time to catch my breath.

But somewhere beneath the noise, there was a stillness.

And within that stillness, God spoke.

When was the last time you became still enough to hear what the Holy Spirit was saying?

I’m very excited about this season of my life because I’m learning what it means to remain still in a world where storms are always raging. Stillness does not mean that nothing is happening around me. It means that what is happening around me no longer gets to determine what is happening within me.

The greatest storm of my life began when I learned that Curtis was dead. It was the kind of storm that could have dismantled everything I believed about God. Instead, it fortified my faith.

But how do you remain centered when the unexpected rocks your world?

What holds you when the bottom drops out from under your feet?

Do you have a foundation strong enough to steady you when life gives you news your heart is not prepared to receive?

In the midst of my greatest storm, I discovered something that changed the course of my life: God’s voice had not been silenced by my pain. Beneath the questions, beyond the confusion, and deeper than my grief, His voice remained.

Still. Steady. Certain.

He reminded me that I was not alone.

That moment became the beginning of an unexpected alignment between my pain and my God-given purpose. I could not see where the road would lead, but I began to understand that tragedy did not have the authority to write the final chapter of my life.

In Who Killed My Son? A Mother’s Wait for Justice, I began publicly sharing what had been painfully personal. Writing the book required courage because I could not tell the story without revisiting the places that hurt. I had to return to moments I would have preferred to forget and uncover emotions I had carefully tucked away.

Yet every time I returned to the pain, I found evidence that God had been there.

I found Him in the strength I did not know I possessed.

I found Him in the peace that made no sense.

I found Him in the words that came when I thought I had nothing left to say.

What was intended to destroy me and dismantle my belief system fortified me in ways I could not have imagined. I serve a God who is not only real—He is real to me.

Did you know that God is always speaking?

He is.

The question is not whether He is speaking. The question is whether we have become still enough to recognize His voice.

Perhaps you have wondered, Was that God, or was that me?

Perhaps your own thoughts have become so loud that you cannot distinguish fear from wisdom, urgency from instruction, or emotion from truth.

Pause and reflect.

It has taken me more than six decades to understand how different my outcomes can be when I pause long enough to listen before I speak, react, or move. I am learning to exercise what I call my “ear muscle.” I want to become more accurate in recognizing God’s instructions. I want the restraint to wait when He has not said move and the courage to move when He has.

That is why I keep listening.

At 70, I am still becoming.

I am becoming more still.

I am becoming more discerning.

I am becoming more free.

And I am loving the woman I am becoming.

The storms have not been able to silence God’s voice. In many ways, they have taught me how to hear Him more clearly.

What might you hear if you became still?

Discover the encounters that sustained my faith and transformed tragedy into purpose in Who Killed My Son? A Mother’s Wait for Justice.