“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10
The world feeds us endless cravings, but true life is found in turning from the noise, in stillness, in seeking the voice of God. —D.
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We live in a world that never stills. Every nerve pulled tight, strung like a bow, always on the brink of breaking. The air hums with noise, with light, with the endless churn of men striving, grasping, taking. Nothing rests. The world does not allow it. It excites, it agitates, it feeds hunger with more hunger, stirring up wants that were not there before. It keeps men reaching, restless, worn thin by the weight of things that do not last.
The factories, the glowing screens, the pens scratching ink onto paper—they work day and night to shape longing, to fill the mind with pictures and sounds meant to stir, to unsettle. It is a hunger that never stills, an ache that does not mend, a yearning kept raw by the very things meant to sate it. They promise fullness, but leave men lean, hungrier than before. They set before us a feast that does not nourish—goods to buy, sights to see, songs to stir the blood—and in the end, we are left with nothing but the craving itself.
This is the way of the world, the thrum of modern life. Always reaching, always chasing. More speed, more ease, more sights, more sounds, and yet—less of what matters. The world says more while the soul longs for less. Less noise, less weight, less of the endless tug of false needs and empty longings. The hush of God is drowned beneath the din. And we, carried along by the rush of it all, forget the old wisdom, the truth known to those who walked before us: that life is found in stillness, in waiting, in hunger rightly fed.
We are starved for what is real, yet the world keeps feeding us emptiness, hoping we never notice. But those who stop, those who listen, those who turn from the clamor and seek the silence—these are the ones who will hear the voice that does not fade, the voice that does not lie, the voice that calls men home.