From Scripture to Stillness

When we come to Scripture, we are not approaching a textbook. We are coming before a living God who desires communion. Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still, and know that I am God.” Notice the order—stillness precedes knowing. Scripture often becomes the very means God uses to bring us into that stillness.

As we begin reading, something subtle but important can happen. A phrase may linger. A verse may seem to rest on us rather than pass by us. Our attention shifts inward. This is not distraction—it is invitation. Jesus said, “No one can come to Me unless the Father who sent Me draws him” (John 6:44). That drawing does not only happen at salvation; it continues throughout our walk with Him.

Here is where undoing begins. Many of us have been trained to push through—to finish chapters, complete plans, and measure devotion by volume. But the Spirit often asks us to stop. When you sense an inward drawing, wisdom is learning to pause. “Today, if you hear His voice, do not harden your hearts” (Hebrews 3:15). Hardening can look like pressing on when God is calling us inward.

Stopping does not mean abandoning Scripture. It means yielding to its purpose. Scripture is doing its work when it leads us into God’s presence. Like Mary at the feet of Jesus, we learn that “only one thing is necessary” (Luke 10:42). Stillness is not inactivity; it is attentiveness without striving.

Remaining in stillness can feel uncomfortable at first. The flesh wants to do something. The mind wants to analyze. But God often works beneath words. “The LORD is in His holy temple; let all the earth keep silence before Him” (Habakkuk 2:20). Silence is not empty—it is full of God.

After a while, we may gently return to reading, but only a little. This forms a rhythm: read, pause, remain, return. Over time, this trains spiritual sensitivity. Jesus said, “My sheep hear My voice” (John 10:27). Hearing does not always come through sound; often it comes through inward awareness.

As this practice deepens, many begin to touch what Scripture calls rest. “There remains therefore a rest for the people of God” (Hebrews 4:9). This rest is not inactivity—it is ceasing from self-effort. It is allowing God to work where words can no longer reach. “Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit,” says the LORD (Zechariah 4:6).

At this point, spoken prayer may even feel burdensome. This is not prayerlessness—it is prayer maturing. Romans 8:26 tells us that the Spirit intercedes “with groanings too deep for words.” Silence becomes cooperation. Presence replaces performance.

This inward attraction to silence is a gift, not a goal. We do not force it. We follow it. “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you” (James 4:8). God does the deeper work when we stop striving and start yielding.

This is not mysticism. It is formation. This is how Scripture moves from the page to the heart, from information to transformation. “Be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2)—not through effort alone, but through surrender. The undoing is learning when to stop trying to reach God and rest in the reality that He is already present.

Scripture leads us in. Stillness keeps us there. And God does what only He can do.