In Quietness and Trust
‘You will be saved in returning and rest.
Your strength will be in quietness and in confidence.’
You refused.”
— Isaiah 30:15 (WEB)
There’s something about this verse that feels like a deep exhale.
Every time I read it, I can almost hear God whispering, “Just stop striving. Come back to Me. Rest.”
But if I’m honest, I’ve spent most of my life doing the opposite.
I’ve tried to fix things, control outcomes, and make sure every little detail was handled. When life felt uncertain, I’d immediately start planning—anything to feel safe again. Yet the more I tried to hold it all together, the more anxious I became. It’s almost like I forgot that peace doesn’t come from fixing, it comes from trusting.
Isaiah 30:15 is one of those verses that cuts straight to the heart. It’s gentle, but it also calls me out. God is offering peace and strength—freely—and yet how often do I refuse it? How often do I tell Him, through my actions if not my words, “I’ve got this”?
Israel did the same thing. In the verses before this one, the people were in trouble and afraid of an attack. Instead of turning to God, they made alliances with Egypt, trusting in human power to protect them. It’s easy to read that and think, Why didn’t they just trust God? But then I realize… I do that too, every single time I run to my own solutions before I run to Him.
God’s words here aren’t harsh—they’re heartbreaking. “In repentance and rest is your salvation… but you would have none of it.” He’s saying, “I’m right here. I’m offering you what your soul truly needs. Why won’t you come?”
And honestly, I feel that ache too. Because so many times, I’ve known that stillness was the answer—but I kept moving anyway.
The Strength Found in Stillness
“In quietness and trust is your strength.”
That phrase always strikes me because we tend to think strength comes from doing more—pushing harder, enduring longer, being tougher. But God redefines strength completely. He says it comes from quietness and trust.
Quietness isn’t just about the absence of noise; it’s a posture of heart. It’s choosing to calm the inner chaos long enough to hear God’s voice again. It’s pausing before reacting, breathing before spiraling, and letting His presence settle the storm inside us.
And trust—well, that’s the hardest part, isn’t it? It’s easy to say “I trust God” when life is going smoothly. But when everything feels uncertain, trust becomes a daily decision. Sometimes it’s moment by moment: God, I don’t see how this will work out, but I’ll rest in You anyway.
I’ve learned that God doesn’t always fix things right away. Sometimes He sits with us in the waiting. He reminds us that His timing is not a punishment but a protection. And in those quiet, hidden places, that’s where trust deepens.
Strength isn’t built by avoiding weakness; it’s found in surrender. In the letting go. In the quiet knowing that He is still good—even here.
The Rest That Saves Us
The verse begins with, “In repentance and rest is your salvation.”
That word “repentance” isn’t meant to be heavy—it literally means to turn back. It’s like God is saying, “Turn around. You’re running yourself into exhaustion. Come home.”
So much of our anxiety comes from running in the wrong direction—toward control, toward busyness, toward constant fixing. But true rest starts the moment we stop running and turn back toward Him.
Rest doesn’t mean laziness or giving up; it means releasing what was never ours to carry. It’s setting down the burden of being our own savior. And salvation isn’t just about eternity—it’s also about the rescue God brings to our hearts in the here and now.
When we rest in Him, we are rescued from fear. From striving. From the endless “what ifs.”
Sometimes, repentance looks like admitting, “God, I’ve been trying to do this without You again. I’ve been chasing peace in all the wrong places. I’m sorry. I just want to be still with You.”
And when we do, He doesn’t scold us. He welcomes us back. Every single time.
Learning to Be Still Again
Lately, I’ve been realizing that quietness is something I have to practice. It doesn’t come naturally in a world that rewards noise and movement. But I’ve started noticing how my soul reacts to silence. At first, it’s uncomfortable. My mind races. I want to grab my phone, scroll, distract myself. But if I wait long enough—if I breathe and just stay—peace begins to rise again.
It’s like the surface of water that’s been stirred up. It takes time for it to become clear. But it always does, if I stop disturbing it.
God’s presence is like that. It’s steady, but we often can’t sense it because our thoughts are churning too fast. Quietness isn’t about hearing nothing—it’s about finally hearing Him.
And when I do, I remember: I don’t have to have all the answers. I don’t have to force anything. I just need to stay near Him.
That’s where the strength is.
A Simple Invitation
Isaiah 30:15 isn’t just a verse—it’s an invitation. A gentle, daily reminder that God’s ways are not frantic; they’re peaceful.
Maybe today, your heart feels tired. Maybe you’ve been trying to hold it all together for too long. Maybe, like me, you’ve been “doing all the right things” and still feel like you’re falling apart inside.
If that’s you, God’s whisper is the same one He spoke long ago:
“Come back to Me. In rest, you’ll find what you’ve been searching for.”
You don’t have to figure it all out today. You don’t have to perform or prove or push. You just have to return—and rest.
Let your quietness be an act of faith. Let your trust be your strength.
And in that stillness, you’ll discover the peace that was waiting for you all along.
Reflection for the Morning:
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What have I been trying to control instead of surrendering to God?
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How can I create moments of quiet today to listen for His voice?
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What would it look like to truly rest in His promises instead of my plans?
Take a slow breath, let your shoulders drop, and whisper, “In quietness and trust, I will find my strength.”
Because you will—and He will meet you there.
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