The Porch of His Presence

The Stillness That Wasn’t Empty

“For the world which seems so empty is in truth the heaven over which Christ rules.”
— Henry Beston

I used to fear the silence of early morning. It felt empty—like a waiting room with nothing to do but watch the clock move slowly forward. Silence, I believed, was something to be filled: a gap, a hollow space that echoed with absence.

But something changed one quiet dawn, as I sat wrapped in a favorite blanket on the porch, coffee warming my hands. I looked across the fields, covered in mist, gently waiting beneath a sky brushed pale gold by the approaching sunrise. For a moment, it seemed the whole world held its breath, suspended in graceful quiet.

And suddenly, what I once perceived as emptiness revealed itself as sacred space. In that stillness, I felt the subtle, reassuring presence of God. It wasn’t empty; it was filled—brimming quietly with peace, hope, and whispered promises. It was as if Christ himself had laid a gentle hand upon my heart, saying softly, “Be still. I am here.”

There is something deeply emotional and spiritual about this hour—about this view. The image itself draws the heart into stillness, as if inviting the soul to sit in the quiet and recognize that God is already there. The mist, the light, the hush—it all becomes a visual echo of God’s nearness. A holy hush.

Now, mornings on the porch have become my most precious time, no longer an empty void but a heavenly sanctuary. Silence has taught me to listen deeply, revealing again and again the quiet presence of God, ruling over a world filled with sacred wonder.

Perhaps in your own moments of emptiness, you too will discover the stillness isn’t empty at all—it’s holy ground.