There’s a strange place I’ve been visiting more often these days.
It’s not loud. It doesn’t glow. It doesn’t sell me anything.
Nor does it ask for effort, performance, or credentials.
Instead, it simply waits—in stillness, in patience, in what most people call “nothing.”
It lives between thoughts.
That almost invisible space where the last thought fades,
and the next one hasn’t arrived yet.
Most minds skip over it,
because silence can feel awkward,
and doing nothing can feel like failing.
However, what if that space is where truth begins to breathe?
⸻
In the past, I used to chase clarity by thinking harder.
I added more books, more voices, more frameworks.
After all, I thought God was hiding inside answers I hadn’t found yet.
But one day, I became too tired to chase anything.
Eventually, I stopped.
I sat. I breathed.
And during that small, unspectacular pause,
something within me softened.
There was no booming voice.
No heavenly download.
Even so, there was peace.
And suddenly, I realized it had always been there.
Not in the thought.
Not in the breakthrough.
But in the space between.
⸻
Too often, we treat silence like a blank page that must be filled—
a gap that must be closed,
or an awkwardness that must be resolved.
Yet the space between thoughts is not empty.
Rather, it is full.
Full of permission to stop.
Full of breath that doesn’t need explanation.
Full of the kind of Presence that never shouts,
simply because it doesn’t need to.
⸻
Personally, I believe God loves to dwell in that space—
not at the top of our theological pyramids,
but in the gentle exhale between questions.
So if your thoughts feel too loud,
or your prayers are tangled,
perhaps you don’t need more words.
Perhaps you only need more space around them.
Therefore, don’t be afraid of the silence.
It’s not the absence of God.
It may, in fact, be the first time He’s getting a word in.