You won't find God in noise

As a culture, we have trained our brains and our eyes and our ears and our bodies to crave constant noise and activity. But what happens when it all goes away?

May 22, 2025

Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in him. (Psalm 62:5)

Have you ever experienced sensory overload?

I didn’t know that overstimulation was a thing until I went to Times Square in New York City. I lasted about 10 minutes. Not that it wasn’t awesome. It was amazing to get to see such a famous place, in spite of the random naked people wandering around in body paint.

It was so loud and so bright and so full of people, it made my skin crawl. Everything inside me buzzed and shook and told me to get out of there. It felt like being trapped in a cage or something, except there wasn’t a cage. It was just noise and people and chaos, and I really just needed quiet.

Sensory overload is a thing. For me, I get the same sensation as nails on a chalkboard. When I’m surrounded by noise, I can’t focus, I can’t be calm, I can’t think, and I start panicking inside. I get cranky, honestly. And I don’t like being cranky.

So if you’re ever hanging out with me and I suddenly dart away to a quiet corner and start staring at a wall, it’s not you. It’s me. And I just need a minute in the stillness.

I think most of this is a peculiarity of me as a person. I have a low noise limit, and I’m sensitive to chaos and brightness and crowds. But I also don’t think I’m that weird either.

As a culture, we have trained our brains and our eyes and our ears and our bodies to crave constant noise and activity. We live on our screens. We must be surrounded by sound and music and thumping bass beats. And if we don’t feel harried and stressed and frantic, we think we’re being lazy.

And what happens when all of that noise goes away? Have you ever put yourself in that position? To be still?

It feels like you’ve forgotten something, doesn’t it? It feels like you’re missing something.

You’re not. You’ve just forgotten what it feels like to be still. And it’s only in the stillness that we can hear God speak.

I know many people love the hustle and bustle of a busy life. I know it’s common and expected to be busy all the time, to fill every corner of our lives with activity. But even the most extroverted extrovert will eventually wear out. Even the person who loves wild parties and wild living and wild everything eventually runs out of steam.

The longer you drown out God’s voice with the noise of news media or cultural programs or work or entertainment, the more confused you’ll be. It may feel good to surround yourself with noise. After all, when you’re surrounded by noise outside you can more easily ignore the hurt inside. But God doesn’t live in the noise. He has never been about chaos.

Following Jesus, obtaining the true rest He promises us, comes in quiet waiting on God. We can’t hear God’s direction or His words or His peace if we’ve filled our ears and our hearts and our souls with noise. If you can’t be still, you will miss what He’s saying.

Turn off the screens. Step back from the noise. Take a walk outside or sit quietly at a window. Close your eyes and just be still. Set your phone alarm if you have to. Set it for one minute. Just one minute. Try it.

Be still and listen. Be still and know.

Then you can go back to your noise and your chaos and your busy schedule. But once you remember the beauty of being still, once you experience the peace of being quiet with God, the chaos of the world may not be as attractive anymore.