America might be the land of the free.

But it is also the land of the loud.

Research shows that 37% of rock musicians have experienced measurable hearing loss. While hearing damage begins at about 100 decibels, rock concerts routinely clock in between 110 and 120 decibels. And many of our churches are not much better in the volume department.

My beef, though, is not so much with how loud we get but how silent we don't get. I submit that most evangelical churches (and those of us who attend them) are somehow uncomfortable with silence.

Fast and loud is fun. It feels good. Slow and silent? Not so good. So, almost all of our worship music is geared toward fast and loud.

But what does this say about us and our walk with God? It says our worship is more about our likes than God's character. The same Bible that commands, "Shout for joy to the Lord all the earth," also commands, "Be still and know that I am God."  Who could argue that we do a lot more loudness than stillness?

Tozer was ahead of his time when he wrote, "Religion has accepted the monstrous heresy that noise, size, activity, and bluster make a man dear to God. But we may take heart. To a people caught in the tempest of the last great conflict, God says, 'Be still, and know that I am God' (Psalm 46:10), and still, He says it as if He means to tell us that our strength and safety lie not in noise but in silence."

There’s a lot to be said for silence. It helps us unwind and creates the stage on which introspection can perform its good work. Silence is calming, slowing—an acoustic cousin to meditation.

William Penn, founder of the state of Pennsylvania, advised, "In the rush and noise of life, as you have intervals, stop home within yourself and be still. Wait upon God—and feel His good presence. This will carry you through your day's business."

I dare you to "stop home" at some point today. You won't have to tell God that you've come to Him. He'll know it—by your silence.