Prayer As Silence

Today, we will continue our journey through the season of Lent and through reflections on Prayer, one of the key aspects of Lenten practice.  

The old adage "Silence is golden" is part of a larger 9th-century Arabic proverb: "Speech is silver, silence is golden."  It means that often it is better to stay silent than to speak what may be on your mind. 

Another way of putting it might be, "It is better to remain silent, and have everyone think you are a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt." 

Silence is not easy to achieve in the culture we live in.  There is so much noise around us all of the time.  Even now, as I write this, my phone continues to vibrate, indicating that there are messages and notifications vying for my attention.  

I remember when I was in seminary, we were taught in a practicum on Worship to include a period of silence after the Prayer of Confession in the liturgy.  The professor encouraged us to make that time last at least a minute.  To illustrate, she had us stay silent while she timed it.  It seemed like a minute lasted an hour.  

But silence as prayer is something that we truly ought to practice every day.  The silence we hold has something invaluable to teach us.  

We often approach prayer with words ready—requests, explanations, confessions. Yet Scripture reminds us that silence is not the absence of prayer; it is one of its deepest forms. “Be still, and know that I am God,” the psalmist writes (Psalm 46:10). Stillness becomes an act of trust.

Silence feels uncomfortable because it strips away control. Without words, we cannot manage outcomes or shape conversations. Yet it is often in silence that God’s presence becomes most tangible. Elijah discovers this when God comes not in wind, earthquake, or fire, but in “a sound of sheer silence” (1 Kings 19:12). God is not absent from quiet; God often dwells within it.

Silent prayer teaches us to listen—not for answers, but for presence. It invites us to rest in God rather than rush to conclusions. Silence creates space for truth to surface gently, without force. Over time, it trains us to notice God’s work beneath the noise of our lives.

Silence is not empty; it is attentive. It is choosing to sit before God without agenda. In Lent, silence becomes a countercultural practice—a refusal to fill every moment with noise or productivity. It reminds us that God does not need our constant commentary to be near.

Many of us fear silence because it reveals what we would rather avoid—grief, longing, unanswered questions. Yet God meets us there with compassion. “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and trust shall be your strength” (Isaiah 30:15). Silence becomes strength when we allow it to be shared with God.

Practicing silence does not require long retreats or perfect conditions. It can begin with a few intentional minutes—turning off distractions, breathing slowly, and simply noticing that God is present. Over time, silence reshapes how we listen, respond, and pray.

In a world that prizes constant expression, silent prayer teaches us that God is already speaking—and waiting for us to listen.

Prayer
God of quiet presence, teach us to be still. Help us trust that you meet us even when words fall away. Amen.

Reflection Questions

1. What emotions surface for you in silence?

2. Where might God be inviting you to listen?

3. How could you practice brief silence this week?