Okay...

I'm sick. Yes. I have some kind of soar throat, no voice thing going on and it happens every time I go to a conference or writer's event.

Well, almost happens every time. What up?

I'm getting a little better, but still sluggish and not in favor of talking much. Maybe that's a good thing. I'd rather be known for what I don't say than what I do say.

It's hard to keep quiet, not speak, hold the tongue, keep our opinion to ourselves. I've been working on this lately and find that I feel "empowered" when I remain in check, quiet, thoughtful.

One, keeping quiet is often respecting others, letting them speak. Two, most of us just plain ole talk too much and we're not really saying anything.

I want to be effective with my speech as well as my writing. I had an encounter with God about taming my sarcasticness. Let me tell you, I haven't forgotten it, and have been on a journey to speak well and wise for many, many years.

Most of you are thinking, "Rachel, we must speak up. We have to stand against evil."

Yes, we do. We must be vocal about abortion and sin-that-runs-amuck in our country. But we have never really taken the time to learn to love. Our words are often as lifeless and fruitless as our counterparts.

They are speaking wind, and so are we.

What is God doing and saying?

I was speaking with author and pastor Randy Alcorn today and he told of a talk he gave at a Bible school. His opening line was a quote from Hebrews, but he spoke without the reference. He asked how many believed his statement. "All will face the judgment seat of Christ, giving account of all his deeds, good or bad." (Rachel translation.)

Only two people out of about 150 raised their hand. Two. When he clarified chapter and verse, then asked again, "who believes this is true?" only half raised their hands.

If we are going to claim and cling to Christ, we should know Him. Lose the notion it's not possible to know God. It is possible. Not in His entirety and completeness, but more than enough for me and you, and the human spirit.

Anyway, I say all that to remind myself the beauty of silence. Letting the weightiness of God seep in to my soul.