The Silence That Spoke — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ —
	
	 
During the global lockdown of 2020, San Francisco, a major bustling city, grew quiet in a way only a few could remember. Streets emptied. Trolleys sat still. The famous fog horns called into a silence that actually answered back, the echo not muted by traffic.
And across the bay, the Golden Gate Bridge — that red arch of motion and noise — suddenly sounded alive. Before, the constant hum of engines had swallowed every softer sound. But as traffic thinned . . . the bridge began to breathe again. Its cables thrummed gently in the wind, like the strings of an enormous musical instrument. Below, the tides murmured. Yes, you could hear the waves crashing hundreds of feet below. And from the brush-covered slopes came a sound long hidden: birdsong.
The white-crowned sparrows that live near the bridge had always sung through the noise. But now, with the noise muted, their voices changed. Researchers at Cornell University recorded them and found something remarkable — the sparrows were singing new songs. Their notes dropped lower, purer, and stronger. What had once been forced and thin became fluid again, stretching twice the distance. It was as if the birds had taken a deep breath and remembered who they were. They did not have to compete with the sounds of traffic.
	Silence can do that — not erase, but restore. 
The bridge didn’t change, the birds didn’t change — the noise did. Remove the interference, and what was true had space to be heard. Creation had been waiting, patient as always, for humanity to pause long enough to listen.
It’s humbling to think about how much we miss when life grows too loud. The sparrows were not newly gifted; their melody was simply unmasked. What about us? How many quiet gifts of Jehovah wait beneath our own noise — beneath the endless hum of schedules, headlines, and notifications? This glimpse of the restorative power of his creations causes us to wonder, and praise him.
It’s no coincidence that Scripture links silence with praise. Psalm 65:1–2 says, “To you silence is praise, O God in Zion.” Some praise is sung; some is whispered; some is simply felt in the stillness. The sparrows’ song wasn’t new music — it was renewed music . . . born of quiet.
Maybe our worship deepens the same way. When the noise of worry fades, when explanations and arguments fall away, when we stop filling the air and start listening — other voices rise. Gratitude, peace, faith — all begin to sing again.
The world beneath the bridge was never mute. It was only waiting for room to speak.
	
Edited  by dljbsp
	
	
 
	 
							 
							
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