When Silence Speaks
A tense encounter with a neighbour becomes a moment of spiritual clarity, revealing how restraint, silence, and trust in God can speak louder than words.
Read Time: 2 minutes
The morning air was fresh, sunlight stretching across the yard as I ambled, letting my thoughts drift where a trellis might finally stand. I could almost picture the climbing roses, the kind my grandmother tended in her garden, stretching upward across a wooden lattice—a shaded nook to sit and enjoy peace and quiet.
My neighbor was working in her garden, and because the spot I chose lay near the boundary we shared, I wanted, as a courtesy, to let her know my plan. But the quiet morning was shattered. Her finger stabbed the air as she unleashed a torrent of words—sharp, blistering, each one piercing like a thorn. The calm vanished. I tried to steady my voice, explaining that the trellis would remain within my property. But each word I offered only fanned her anger into greater intensity.
The peacefulness of the morning pressed down on me as a heavy burden. I kept asking myself, What if I had answered differently? Could a kind word have softened her anger, or would it have sounded hollow against her fury? In my grandmother’s days, neighbors often lingered on porches to talk things through—but not this time.
I felt unsettled for the rest of the day. My neighbor’s words cut deeper than I expected. For a moment, I just wanted to snap, to say everything I was feeling, to make her see how wrong it felt. That tight knot in my chest reminded me how quickly anger can rise. Then I thought of Jesus before Pilate.
How did he do that? He endured relentless hostility. He didn’t defend himself, didn’t lash out; he just stood there in silence, trusting and submitting to his Father.
I remembered Jesus in Nazareth. One moment, the crowd admired him, and the next, they turned on him and drove him away. The disappointment, the rejection—it must have hurt him deeply. Visualizing that, I recognize my own feelings—being misunderstood, treated unfairly. I wanted to lash out, cry, even point my finger.
I didn’t handle it perfectly, but by holding back and not returning with angry words, I managed to keep the situation from escalating. Jesus’s example reminded me that spiritual and emotional strength can be quiet, and even when hurt, I could respond with care rather than letting anger take over.
James 1:19 urged me to be “quick to listen and slow to speak,” (CEV) while Ecclesiastes 3:7 reminded me there is “a time to keep silence and a time to speak.” (ESV). Looking back, I can see how those words quietly shaped my response more than I realized in the moment.
With time, I saw more clearly. My neighbor’s outburst was not about roses, trellises, or property lines—it was about control. But Romans 12 helped me: “If possible, so far as it depends on you, live at peace with all.” (v. 18). I realized that my task was to govern my own words and actions, and leave the rest in God’s hands, while gently guiding my heart.
My silence did not make me weak. It carved out a space for God to whisper, “Leave this with Me.” And in that whisper, I discovered that silence can roar louder than words—for God’s voice is clearest in the storms of everyday life.
Thank you, my dear LORD, for reminding me that silence with You is not weakness, but strength—and in that strength, I find peace.
A Sister