Being Present: Finding God in Silence

by Luke Wood

Modern life rushes past us at a ruthless pace. Sometimes I feel as though I’m a spectator of my own existence. We live in a culture wired for noise and distraction. We are trained to avoid boredom at any cost, and we are even conditioned to resist silence. 

We’ve been taught to treat boredom as an enemy and silence as something to escape. We scroll and stream to keep ourselves occupied, letting distraction become a normal part of our daily routine. Maybe it’s because stillness feels strange to us. It’s as if quiet moments expose something in us that we aren’t quite ready to face. But what if the very thing we fear is the doorway into deeper life with God?

The truth is, being present is hard. It’s difficult to really be here, right now, in the present moment. Our minds are like time travelers, leaping into future what-ifs or replaying past regrets. But the invitation to silence is to return to this moment, this breath, and become aware of the present.

It might sound simple, even absurdly small. Just be still? Just breathe? But anyone who’s tried knows silence is no easy thing. It asks more of us than words do. It draws us inward and demands our attention in a way that our busy world rarely does.

Silence, then, becomes a kind of sanctuary in the midst of a noisy world. It is a spacious place where we meet God without performance or pretense.

Parker Palmer once wrote:

The soul is like a wild animal… tough, resilient, resourceful, savvy. It knows how to survive in hard places. But it is also shy. If we want to see a wild animal, the last thing we should do is crash through the woods yelling for it to come out. But if we sit quietly by the tree, the wild animal we’re looking for might make an appearance.

That image is so true of our own souls. Our soul doesn’t emerge under pressure or in the clamor of achievement. It comes out in stillness— when we stop yelling and start listening.

Silence isn’t just about turning off the volume; it’s about laying down the illusion of control. We release the myth that our efforts hold everything together. We let go of striving. We sit, not to accomplish something, but to be with Someone. In this, silence is not passive. It’s a courageous act of surrender. And in a culture that equates value with productivity, that surrender is revolutionary.

At the heart of silent prayer is intention. We are not forcing our minds, but we are orienting our hearts. We’re not trying to force thoughts away; we’re simply letting them float by like leaves on a river. We release our anxious grip. We return, again and again, and surrender to the presence of God.

Being present requires stillness and time to be here now. Lives that are too busy for margin are in threat of not being fully alive and present. Being present to what is happening in the moment often produces wonder. Remember when we were young and full of wonder? When time passed by without our calendar notification alerting us of the next event? Being fully present to God and ourselves requires a childlike faith and contentment to simply be. 

Here’s a simple way to begin:

1. Turn Everything Off 
   No phone. No music. No podcast. Create silence — it won’t create itself.

2. Settle into Stillness
   Sit. Close your eyes. Breathe deeply. Let your body slow down. Let your thoughts settle.

3. Anchor Your Intention
   Use a sacred word or phrase — “Here I am.” “Be still.” Let it draw your attention gently toward God.

4. Return with Kindness
   When your thoughts drift (they will), return with compassion. You haven’t failed—you’ve simply found another doorway back to the present.

5. Just Sit with God
   No agenda. No fixing. Just a willingness to be seen and loved. 

There’s a story from Thomas Keating, one of the great teachers of centering prayer. A young woman once confessed to him after a prayer time, “Father, I had 10,000 thoughts in twenty minutes. I failed.” Without hesitation, Keating smiled and said, “How lovely. That’s 10,000 opportunities to return to the loving presence of Jesus.” 

That’s what silence is. A thousand quiet turns back home.

In a world addicted to noise, silence is a kind of healing. It reminds us that we are more than what we produce. That we are, in the end, beloved. God is already present. Already holding us. We don't enter silence to earn God's attention. We enter silence to realize God’s attention is already on us. God has been waiting. 

You may feel boredom, or restlessness. That’s okay. Be curious. Let the discomfort teach you something true. In silence, you will not always hear God speak — but you will begin to notice. You’ll feel the subtle shifting of the soul. A sigh. A stillness. A breath. And that, too, is prayer. 

Remember: you don’t have to do anything special. You only have to show up. Sit quietly, and say with your soul, “Here I am.” And in that moment, you may just hear God whisper back, “I’ve been here all along.”

So here is your invitation:
Turn down the volume.
Step away from the noise.
Be still.
And know that God is here.

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Luke Wood is a writer and artist who serves in the fields of spiritual formation, ministry, and counseling. His work explores the integration of spiritual formation and psychology, helping others experience healing and transformation. He lives in Colorado with his wife and their three children.