In a world filled with constant noise—notifications, conversations, and the ever-present hum of distraction—choosing silence can feel radical. But that’s exactly what I did. I stepped away from my routine, turned off my phone, and entered into a time of deep stillness on a silent retreat.

At first, the silence was uncomfortable. No talking, no scrolling, no background music to fill the space. Just me, my thoughts, and God. But as the hours passed, I began to notice something unexpected: peace. Beneath the surface noise of my everyday life was a stillness I hadn’t accessed in a long time. And in that stillness, I found clarity.

Guided by the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, I spent time in Scripture, prayer, and reflection. Passages like Psalm 139 reminded me that I am never hidden from God:

“You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me.” (v.5)

Even in silence—especially in silence—God was present, closer than I had imagined.

Another passage that spoke deeply to me was Luke 12, where Jesus urges us not to worry about our lives—what we will eat or wear—but to trust in God’s provision. Letting go of noise helped me let go of anxiety. I stopped striving, even internally and simply rested in God's care.

Two other passages became especially meaningful to me:

• 1 John 4:7–8, 18–19 teaches us that God is love and that as we grow in faith, we come to know and believe in that love. It reminded me that love is not something we earn—it's something God gives freely and abundantly.
• Luke 10:38–42, the story of Mary and Martha, convicted me in a personal way. Like Martha, I often feel compelled to stay busy, to “get things done.” At first, I struggled with how Jesus responded to her. But as I sat with the passage in prayer, I realized He wasn’t being harsh—He was inviting her (and me) to sit with Him, to be present, to listen. The other things can wait. This verse reminded me of my need to seek a better balance between action and stillness—to live both as a Martha and a Mary.

What surprised me most wasn’t just the absence of stress or distraction—it was the presence I felt. God’s nearness was almost tangible. I came home not only with insight, but with a quiet joy and a renewed sense of direction.



If you’ve ever felt the ache for more—more peace, more clarity, more of God—I encourage you to consider a silent retreat. It’s not easy to unplug. But sometimes, stepping away is exactly what we need to draw closer to what truly matters.

Michelle Miller