Level Up

We live in a world that's terrified of silence.

Think about the last time you stood in line at the grocery store without pulling out your phone. Or sat at a red light without checking notifications. Or—dare we admit it—went to the bathroom without scrolling through something.

The truth is, most of us don't experience silence anymore. What we experience are brief periods of quiet between our interruptions. And that distinction matters more than we realize.

The Clutter We Can't See
There's a kind of clutter that accumulates in our lives that has nothing to do with our garages or closets. It's the noise—constant, relentless, attention-demanding noise—that fills every available moment of our days. Social media notifications. News cycles. Podcasts during our commute. Netflix while folding laundry. TikTok while half-listening to our kids.
We've confused this noise with life itself. We've convinced ourselves that the hustle, the bustle, the constant stimulation—that's just what living looks like. But what if it's not life at all?

What if it's just distraction wearing life's clothing?

When we finally try to create space for silence, it feels threatening. Uncomfortable. Even boring. But here's the thing: silence doesn't feel awkward because it's boring. Silence feels awkward because it's honest.

The Prophet in the Cave
There's an ancient story about a prophet named Elijah who found himself hiding in a cave, burned out and ready to quit. He was done—emotionally, physically, spiritually exhausted. In that moment of desperation, God showed up. But not in the way Elijah expected.

First came a violent wind so powerful it tore rocks loose from the mountain. But God wasn't in the wind. Then came an earthquake. But God wasn't in the earthquake. Then fire. But God wasn't in the fire either.

And after the fire, there was something the ancient text calls "a thin silence." A whisper so gentle that Elijah almost missed it.

God didn't show up spectacular. He showed up in the quiet that Elijah had stopped listening for.

This story reveals something profound about how the Divine speaks. God speaks far more than we listen. The problem isn't that He's distant or silent. The problem is that we've drowned Him out with the things we allow into our lives.

What Fasting Really Means
When people think about fasting, they usually focus on what they're giving up. Food. Social media. Entertainment. But fasting isn't primarily about removal—it's about refocus.
Fasting doesn't make God louder. It makes us quieter.

The goal isn't to demonstrate willpower or spiritual strength. The goal isn't to see how long we can survive without something. The goal is simple: to hear from the One we've been drowning out.

When we fast, we're not trying to impress God. We're telling ourselves that hearing from Him is the most important thing in our lives. We're acknowledging that all the other things we fill our time with—good things, even—are not worth it if they're keeping us from noticing His presence.

The Five-Minute Challenge
For those who find the idea of fasting intimidating, consider this: Can you do five minutes? Not an hour. Not a prayer marathon. Just five minutes a day where you intentionally set aside time with no phone, no music, no multitasking.

Five minutes where you sit somewhere and say, "God, I'm here. I don't need You to fix anything. I just want to notice You." And then you shut up and listen.

At first, it will feel awkward. Unproductive. Your mind will wander. You'll think about your to-do list. You'll remember texts you need to send. But those feelings don't mean it's not working. They mean you're detoxing from the noise.

Nobody destroys their life in five minutes. But people absolutely build their lives in five-minute chunks. The text you send with encouragement. The moment you pause to actually be present with someone. The decision to pursue something meaningful instead of something merely pleasurable. These five-minute chunks, accumulated over time, shape the trajectory of our lives.

What Silence Reveals
When we allow ourselves to get truly silent, something happens. Unresolved grief starts showing up. Resentment we thought we'd moved past begins to resurface. Exhaustion begins to speak. Issues we've been avoiding demand attention.

This is why we avoid silence. Not because we don't love God, but because we don't want to feel what He might uncover in our lives. We don't want to be honest about where we're really at.

But here's the beautiful paradox: the silence that feels threatening is actually the path to freedom. Psalm 46:10 says, "Be still and know that I am God." Notice it doesn't say "do more." It says "be still and know."

There's a connection between our stillness and our knowing. Stillness isn't inactivity—it's awareness. It's alignment.

The Whisper Always Has Direction
When Elijah finally heard God's whisper in that cave, he didn't receive just comfort. He received clarity. God didn't merely restore his emotions; He restored his direction.

The same is true for us. Maybe the breakthrough we've been praying for isn't on the other side of more effort, more hustle, more doing. Maybe it's on the other side of finally hearing the whisper we've been drowning out for years.

Isaiah 30:21 promises: "Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, 'This is the way, walk in it.'"

When God whispers, He's not teasing us or taunting us. He's leading us. His whispers carry direction, purpose, and calling. But we can't hear them over the noise.

A Quieter Life
Perhaps what we need isn't a louder God. Perhaps what we need is a quieter life.

Not a life of isolation or inactivity, but a life that has made space for the voice that matters most. A life that recognizes the difference between being busy and being purposeful. A life that understands that sometimes the most productive thing we can do is stop producing and start listening.

The question isn't whether God is speaking. The question is whether we're finally ready to get quiet enough to hear Him.