The Words of A Quiet Tongue

The last 2 years made me really quiet. If you know me, you know I always have a lot to say. I am by no means quiet about speaking up and I’m often the loudest one in the room. Partially because, well, I have a voice that carries. And in part because I had a tendency to get loud in order to be heard. But the last couple years a lot of that changed. It started because I couldn’t stand what was going on around me in the world. Speaking up felt like I’d only be adding to the noise. I found myself taking quite a few steps back and just observing the chaos. I chose not to insert my opinions into situations unless asked. I chose to stop reaching out to those that never seemed to want to check on me. I didn’t let anger or fear force me to get loud in order to make sure I was heard. I just got quiet. I listened more. I paid closer attention to people and situations. And I made sure my words, when spoken, were intentional. I had no desire to be heard anymore. I had lost my taste for being seen or feeling needed. So much of what I thought was just my nature (being so loud) was in fact an insecurity. I was afraid that if I didn’t get loud or say something I’d be left out, ignored, or simply lost in the crowd. So I let myself drift into the background for a while to heal. And in the silence of that place I learned a few things about being quiet.

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Being quiet slowed me down. It forced me to spend more time talking to Jesus than people. It made me look at areas of my heart that I had been hiding in plain sight. Me having so much to say was fear. I was afraid that I would be over looked. So I was loud. Loud voice, loud clothes, loud makeup. I was always in the center of the room. I was always up front ready for action. And that’s still a part of me. I am the woman ready for anything, up front for Jesus waiting to be called into action. And I still do have a lot to say. But the loudness before wasn’t for Him, it was for man. “Notice me! Notice me! Notice me!”, my heart would cry out. And it seemed that no matter how big I made myself, no one did. At least not in way that was fulfilling. I didn’t understand. I was so frustrated feeling ignored and unheard despite how in your face I made myself. Despite how available I made myself. I’d speak what I knew was God only for it to fall on deaf ears. I couldn’t see why until I got quiet. The broken parts of me wanted to be seen and held. I wasn’t realizing that God was already holding them. Slowing down, looking only at Him, was how I was able to finally heal the unfit desires to be seen in the wrong way. And how I finally realized I was already seen by my God. He was hiding me until I was ready. And now when I speak up, I am heard. Because the words aren’t for man, they’re for Him.

Being quiet made me realize that I was being loud to glorify myself and not Him. I didn’t mean to. In my mind it was all for Him. But in my heart, I just wanted to be included, to feel special. I couldn’t hear the cry of my heart when I was being so noisy. So when I stopped speaking, when I got quiet, I could finally hear it. The sad little girl crying out for attention. But I also heard God. And He was telling me all along that I was indeed special. That I didn’t need man to hear me. That I wasn’t overlooked in His kingdom or His heart. I couldn’t hear Him because I was too busy listening for man to say it. But He was there all along whispering it to my heart. “I hear you. You’re special to me. I love what you have to say.” He never meant for me to not speak up. But He wanted me to do it to glorify Him, seek His approval, not man. And certainly not for my glory. I had no idea I was doing this. And it took finally being quiet to see it. To actually hear the truth.

Being quiet showed me my tribe. Now, I know it comes off as petty to stop reaching out to those who don’t reach out to me. And I get that. My intention wasn’t one of spite or hurt. But rather one of trial and obedience. God wanted me to see who was worthy of being in my inner places. The ones meant to run with me in the days ahead. Not everyone deserves full access to our inner world. Not everyone is anointed to be there with us. Quieting down with those around me was for me to see who was supposed to have access and who needed to be moved to the outer rings. I’ll be honest, I was surprised by who ended up moving. And even more shocked at the number of people relocated in my heart. I had expected it but was somewhat hurt by those that remained quiet with me when I had pulled back. But once the hurt passed and I processed through that with Jesus, I was able to see the truth of it. The simple fact that my tribe was meant to be small. That I was carrying others into my most vulnerable places that shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Not that they were bad people, but that they weren’t meant to have that kind of access to my spirit. What ended up emerging from this quiet was the roar of a few. A few amazingly anointed, powerful people that saw me, knew me well, and truly connected with me and my density. These were the people meant to run with me. They were the genuine deal. But I had to get quiet to see the ones that needed to go.

Being quiet made me intentional. Proverbs 18:21 says, “Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits.” When I spoke, a lot of what I had to say was me. I had opinions and things to say. Which isn’t inherently bad. There is nothing wrong with an opinion or conversation. But more often than not I wasn’t speaking to bring life in the way I really should have been. Not that what I was saying was cruel, bad, or even wrong. But it wasn’t life. At least not the life I was made to speak. And I was saying a lot more than I should have. When I got quiet it meant that in the moments I was speaking, it was only what God was ushering me to say. I was removed from the conversation and He was grafted in through me. I was intentional about when I would say anything and what exactly would be coming off my tongue. With the desire to be seen and heard removed, all that was left were His words. And what I found was power and authority that I’d never had before. Suddenly the words I spoke had a new weight. A new impact. And it had nothing to do with me at all. It was all Him. He was being glorified, as it should have been all long. And the life I was meant to speak was flowing with abundance. Being quiet meant that I was focused with intentionality on His heart alone and what He wanted to bring fourth. Which meant my relationship with God grew. It became deeper, smoother, and more free flowing. I gained a new access to His heart that many words never got for me. It wasn’t until I chose to sit still enough, quiet enough, slow to speak, that I could hear His heart in such a new and profound way. My heart and mind were suddenly connected to Him with a new greatness I’d never had.

Being quiet made me more gentle. The abrasive edges that I had from trying to be seen have been rubbed smooth. The energy I exuded to make sure I was heard is now focused on God in a greater way. All the rough spots, the chipped edges, were whittled down to reveal something touchable and soft. It made me more kind, more compassionate, and more loving. Being quiet meant I heard even more of what others were saying. And sometimes what they weren’t. It gave me an opportunity to really hear them and respond. Not out of need, but out of love. Having less to say and being more intentional meant that, more often than not, my initial reaction wasn’t one I wanted to put out into the world. It usually was a response to others based on my inner world instead of a response based on theirs. Being quiet meant I could better hear their intentions, their hearts, and thus be more gentle with how I handled them. After a while, it became habit. And my initial responses became ones of love instead of me. The gentleness became inner and outer. And the way I was able to love them blossomed into something bigger than myself and more like Jesus.

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It was a surprise to me that I got quiet. I really didn’t expect it to be something that stuck. Now, if you ever get around me, you’ll see I still have a lot to say. I have a ton of questions and I can find just about anything to talk about. But the quiet isn’t scary anymore. It isn’t foreign or cold to me now. I don’t need to speak up or be heard unless Jesus prompts me to. And I have no desire or need to be seen. As it turns out, I like it this way. I have deeper more dangerous conversations with those that I love. I have better connections with people around me. I’m happier and more fulfilled because love got louder than fear. I like being a woman of a gentle spirit. I like being able to stay quiet and hear the Lord. I love the relationship that grew out of this with God. And I love the way it changed my relationship with others. Being quiet ended up being a good thing. I’m grateful for how it changed me and the way it’s allowed me to touch the people God does want me to speak up with. Becoming quiet gave me wisdom and strength I had tried so hard to find with noise. I like it in this quiet place. I like myself better. The background isn't so bad when it means Jesus is up front.