The Sacrifice of Silence

All too often in my life I have regretted things I've said. I've reacted too quickly, spoken too soon, and aimed to wound. And I've been around people that struggle all too much with this same issue. We all do.

That's why I really enjoyed the article on Boundless this week called The Sacrifice of Silence. It's written by Laurel Robinson and she talks about what sacrificing one's right for an immediate reply or defense can produce in terms of peace and godliness.

I didn't sacrifice anything for Lent this year, but this is something that I'm going to pray for myself about. With the season of life that I'm in, I'm often feeling the need to prove to some people who I am, or defend my actions and decisions. It's an endless source of anxiety and sadness for me. I'm praying that I will have the wisdom to know when to speak and when to hold my tongue, that I will ever quick to listen and slow to speak.

I'm praying this for you, too.

Here are some excerpts. Enjoy!

This Lent, a friend of mine committed to a practice I found fascinating: she vowed to refrain from rushing to explain and defend herself, even when she felt she might not be fully understood. This discipline was inspired by the well-known prayer attributed to St. Francis, which includes the line: "O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek ... to be understood as to understand."

Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires. (James 1:19)

Since Ash Wednesday, Marie has been attempting to submit herself to this discipline daily, particularly with Gary, her husband of three years. The results at home were almost instantaneous. The first time Gary said something that Marie felt was "snide" toward her, she remained silent. Normally, she might have retorted with a scornful remark or with an indignant "that was rude!" Then, the argument would have escalated, and the next two hours would have been robbed of joy, tainted by coolness toward one another.

After a few moments of her prayerful silence, Gary apologized for his statement. Marie was shocked. He had seldom apologized lately. He knew his words had been hurtful, and her silence gave him the chance to reconsider. Instead of the all-too-common bitterness, there was a relative calm, and the two were able to continue to enjoy one another's company.

James wrote to his fellow believers, "Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires (James 1:19)." Frankly, words spoken thoughtlessly do not bring about a righteous life, either. They only distract others or puff us up with pride or self-importance.

Ecclesiastes 3:7 reminds us that there is a proper time for every activity, including "a time to be silent and a time to speak." Surely there are times when it is brave, and prudent, and right to speak up: to defend an innocent person, or to speak the truth boldly to people who are deluded by a lie. However, I wonder how many times in a week the "speaking up" we do is for our own benefit and comfort