This Week's Truth

Silence

Monday, April 15, 2019
Waiting

            I noticed my actions during a turkey hunt a few mornings ago. I had not heard a bird gobble for a few days, so there I was waiting again for that familiar sound. I always arrive just before daylight and make my way to a central place in order to be heard should I do a shock call and in order that I might hear the location of a bird should it choose to respond. Or sometimes I just wait silently and let the birds talk on their own. This was my position the other morning. I just stood and listened and then I sat and listened. As the sun began to rise, listening would now have to be filtered through other noises that might easily drown out the specific call I was listening for. Sometimes those other sounds are known to get a tom talking especially the caw of a crow or the shout of a rooster. Nothing seemed to stir the angst of any gobbler that morning. So I just waited as the morning grew older and refused the urge to muddy the air with my attempt to locate a bird. I decided to go to the place of my last encounter. I did so, called, and was met with the gobble I had come to hear. It was there all the time – silent. I was there all the time as well – patient. I wonder what would have happened if my silence had been replaced with noise and my patience had been replaced with activity. I'm pretty sure I know.

            As I stood atop that hill that morning I was reminded that many times my call to God has seemingly been met with silence. Many of those times I equated silence with absence and left too soon. Sometimes I determined that His silence meant that I needed to call louder and more frequent. This too I misinterpreted. God's silence is not His absence and it is also not His desire to hear more from me in order for Him to be convinced. Most of the time His silence is a test to see how my faith in Him has progressed. Not that He needs to know (He already does), but so that I might know if my trust is based on sight and sound or simply by the promises He has already given me. What should I do when I perceive His silence? I should do exactly what I did the other morning. Go to the place of my last encounter and wait.

Gary Miller
gary@outdoortruths.org

 

 

 

 

 

Silence

Sunday, April 16, 2017
Knowing when to be quiet

          I've always known just where a few turkeys roost. It's the same place every year. For the last several years I have not even used a locater call. I've just made my way to this area and set up about a hundred yards from where they usually are. I can't remember the last time my opening day routine was different and when they were not there. This year was no different. Three toms responded but I couldn't get them any closer than eighty yards.
         The other day was not opening day. It was actually my fourth trip into the woods but since I had not been in a few days I decided to take my opening day approach. I quietly set up and waited until daylight. The familiar echoes of treed toms never came. They had spent the night somewhere else. For an hour after that I never heard the first gobble. Then things changed. Just over the next ridge I heard one give up his location. I quickly made the trip to the ridge just above where two toms were gobbling the woods down. I never made a sound but eased down into the woods adjacent to their position. I got set up and called with two calls to make it seem like there were two hens in the vicinity. The toms quickly responded so I shut up. I put my slate call down and refused to let one yelp ring from my mouth call. No matter how much they called, I never responded. I went quiet. They couldn't take the silence and proceeded to move my way to find out where the ladies had moved to. When the second one came by, I put the bead of my gun on his head, pulled the trigger, and dropped him in his tracks. (I love when a good plan comes together.)
          It's amazing what silence will do. While it can hinder a meaningful conversation, when it comes to God, it allows us to listen more intently and can draw us closer to the place we last heard Him. It can also bring balance back to a one-sided relationship. After all, this is how most of our praying goes. We talk to God and talk to God and talk to God. And we rarely remain still and silent long enough for Him to speak and draw close to our position. We can't hear Him because our own calls have drowned his response. It amazes me that the first blessing in prayer doesn't come from what we say but from where we are. Jesus said, when you pray, go into your room and shut the door. And the Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you. He didn't say, the Father who hears what you say, but who sees where you are. Friend, it has been said that silence is golden. Whoever said that must have learned this first lesson of prayer. It's better to show up and shut up when God is part of the conversation.

Gary Miller
gary@outdoortruths.org

Silence

Friday, May 08, 2015
When you can't hear God

             I noticed my actions during a turkey hunt a few mornings ago. I had not heard a bird gobble for a few days, so there I was waiting again for that familiar sound. I always arrive just before daylight and make my way to a central place in order to be heard should I do a shock call and in order that I might hear the location of a bird should it choose to respond. Or sometimes I just wait silently and let the birds talk on their own. This was my position the other morning. I just stood and listened and then I sat and listened. As the sun began to rise, listening would now have to be filtered through other noises that might easily drown out the specific call I was listening for. Sometimes those other sounds are known to get a tom talking especially the caw of a crow or the shout of a rooster. Nothing seemed to stir the angst of any gobbler that morning. So I just waited as the morning grew older and refused the urge to muddy the air with my attempt to locate a bird. I decided to go to the place of my last encounter. I did so, called, and was met with the gobble I had come to hear. It was there all the time - silent. I was there all the time as well - patient. I wonder what would have happened if my silence had been replaced with noise and my patience had been replaced with activity. I'm pretty sure I know.
            As I stood atop that hill that morning I was reminded that many times by call to God has seemingly been met with silence. Many of those times I equated silence with absence and left too soon. Sometimes I determined that His silence meant that I needed to call louder and more frequent. This too I misinterpreted. God's silence is not His absence and it is also not His desire to hear more from me in order for Him to be convinced. Most of the time His silence is a test to see how my faith in Him has progressed. Not that He needs to know (He already does), but so that I might know if my trust is based on sight and sound or simply by the promises He has already given me. What should I do when I perceive His silence? I should do exactly what I did the other morning. Go to the place of my last encounter and wait.

Gary Miller
gary@outdoortruths.org


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