March 29th, 2026 - "Wilderness Survival Guide: Silence" - Rev. Dr. Michelle Morris

Matt Nelson: Welcome to the sermon podcast from First United Methodist

Church in downtown Bentonville.

If you have questions related to what you hear today or just want to find

out more about the ministries of First United Methodist Church, please visit us

online at fumcbentonville.org or check us out on Facebook, Instagram or TikTok.

Rev. Dr. Michelle Morris: We are finishing this series in which we look

at different spiritual practices, and today's spiritual practice is silence.

So hear now the word of the Lord.

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear though the earth should change, though the mountains

shake in the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the

mountains tremble with its tumult.

There's a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the

holy habitation of the Most High.

God is in the midst of the city.

It shall not be moved.

God will help it when the morning dawns.

The nations are in an uproar.

The kingdoms totter.

He utters his voice.

The earth melts.

The Lord of hosts is with us.

The God of Jacob is our refuge

Come behold the works of the Lord.

See what desolations He has brought on the earth.

He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth.

He breaks the bow and shatters the spear.

He burns the shields with fire.

Be still and know that I am God.

I am exalted among the nations.

I am exalted in the earth.

The Lord of hosts is with us.

The God of Jacob is our refuge.

This is the word of God for the people of God.

Thanks be to God.

Let us pray.

Lord, open our hearts, our minds, and our eyes that we might see and know

the word you have for us this day

In your holy name we pray, amen.

Holy Week was a very noisy week.

Remember that it starts with a loud procession in which Jesus comes in on a

donkey and the people shout, "Hosanna!" Then Jesus gets angry and starts

flipping tables over in the temple.

Jesus' teaching and his arguments with the Pharisees and the Sadducees are

taking on a much more heated tone.

There are dishes clanging as the Passover meal is prepared.

The sharp ring of soldiers' swords as they come to arrest Jesus.

Crowds shouting for Jesus to be crucified.

The snap of whips as Jesus is beaten, and the stinging ring of

nails being driven into our Savior.

And all while Jerusalem is crowded down by pilgrims from all nations.

So much noise

But was it any noisier than practically every single day of our lives now?

We are covered over with noise.

The noise of crowds of people around us who seem less and less

inclined to stop and listen, and more inclined to shout us down.

Nearly every room we enter has electronic devices crying out to

us, acting as sirens in both senses, as warning and as temptation.

The machines that surround us never shut up, becoming both punchline,

"Is your refrigerator running?

Better go catch it," an ominous threat to our very livelihood, unless we

happen to be one of the people who keep the machines proverbially running.

Better catch it.

The sounds of cars and trucks invade our rest.

Even light has noise now, so much noise as to block our ability to see the heavens.

All of creation is crowded down by pilgrims wandering in an automated world.

So much noise, and yet silence has a way of making itself heard then and now

There is a silence.

A silence when three exhausted men accompanied Jesus into the garden.

As they gave over to the very human weakness of their bodies and fell asleep,

the one they followed also struggled in his humanity, his divine humanity.

As he knelt in the garden and sweat dripped like blood from his

body, as he struggled with the desire to be anywhere else, and

yet he knew his purpose was here.

The choked and anguished silence that came from holding everything

back right before he cried out for God to take this cup from him.

It is not unlike the silence that grips our hearts.

The silence when we finally turn off the news, fooling ourselves into thinking

our exhaustion will overcome our fear.

But the worries keep banging around in our heads.

We can't quiet them down.

We watch videos to figure out how we can flee, how we can be anywhere else,

even as we know our home is here.

We want to cry out too, to beg God to take this cup from us, but the lump in

our throat stops sound from coming out.

Let us hear the sound of that silence

There is another silence.

The silence of two men who are both moving stealthily through the crowd.

One has snuck to the authorities with a promise that he can lead them to Jesus.

One is following at a distance, safe enough to see his friend, but far

enough not to be associated with him.

They are trying to be quiet, except when one man promises he knows him and the

other man assures others he does not.

Though the silence that they experience is at different times, one just

as he approaches the one he will betray, and one as he warms his hands

over a fire before he will deny.

With one silence broken by the sound of a kiss and the others by a rooster

crowing, it is the same silence.

The silence of failure

Like the silence when one we love is caught in a lie.

When the betrayal spills out and we find ourselves thinking back on all

the moments, moments we thought were one thing, but were really another.

Moments when our suspicions rose up, but they assured us, gaslit us into

believing we were the crazy ones.

But the truth came out, and the lie was exposed, and our world fell apart.

There was the noise of begging, of pleading, or of blaming,

trying to cover over everything.

But our ears were closed up, and the noise of the silence was deafening

because we just couldn't hear them anymore

Let us hear the sound of that silence

There is another silence.

In the limestone walled building where a government authority interviewed

Jesus, Pilate standing in the cool of his palace with this uncommonly

common man before him, wanting Jesus to break the silence with an explanation,

one that would get him out of this political nightmare he found himself in.

And when Jesus does break the silence, what does he say?

"I was born and came into this world for this reason, to testify to the truth.

Whoever accepts the truth listens to my voice." But Pilate couldn't just listen.

He had to ask, "What is truth?" The silence that lingered after that

question was all the answer he needed

Pilate's voice still echoes today.

What is truth, we wonder, caught in this political nightmare we find ourselves in.

We continue to see people suffering all around us in the

wealthiest country in the world.

People going without food, people kicked to the curb, people imprisoned

without fairness, people whipped without rights, people threatened with harm,

when all any of us really want is to be able to provide for our family, to

keep our loved ones safe, to have food on the table, and a roof over our head.

We all just want to be loved and to love.

That is truth

That is what we shout into the void, and yet it goes unheard.

And if it is unheard, was it ever really spoken?

Or was it silenced all along?

Let us hear the sound of that silence

There is another silence.

It comes after the rush of insults and anger, in haste to beat the

setting sun and find Sabbath upon us, as nails are pulled and a body falls

to the ground, and then as two men run carrying it to get to the tomb.

There is the noise of panic and fear and loss and anger in all of that moment,

and the piercing noise of haste as the stone is rolled, and then the crash of

silence, the deafening silence of the tomb

Like the silence that comes just before the machine grinds to lower

the casket or the stone moves into place on the columbarium.

The silence just after the goodbye.

The goodbye that you were told is just for now, but feels like forever.

Just after the gospel is proclaimed, but long before it is fully experienced.

There is the deafening silence of loss

Let us hear the sound of that silence

But there is another silence.

It takes place in a boisterous meal where people who have become

family are gathered in celebration.

And yes, this meal feels different, heavier in many

ways, but hopeful in others.

Whatever it will come to be, in this moment, it is home.

And there are two silences.

One as he lifts the bread, and one as he lifts the cup.

Right at that precipice where bread and cup are just at the

moment of becoming body and blood, right in that breath, where there

is silence, there is provision, there is promise, there is love.

We know that silence.

We know it when all our people are gathered around the table just before

the food is passed, just as everyone has scooted up to the table, just before

the prayer is offered, when we all take just a moment to look around, to see

all the people, family and friends, who have found their way into our lives,

who represent the ones who have passed from our lives, but seeing in those

around the table a bit of them in the way their hair falls across their eyes, or

in the wink they shot across the table, or in the crooked smile on their face.

Just before thanks are given, just before forks are lifted, in that

silence is past and present and future

Let us hear the sound of that silence

And there is another silence.

In that same room as the meal, in the intimacy of a moment,

there is the noise of objection.

There is the breaking of glass.

There is pouring of ointment, but then there is the silence of touch, the

silence of healing, the silence of love.

As she looked into his eyes and he into hers, in that silence were all

the words that were ever needed.

We know that silence too.

When someone looks into our eyes and we are really seen.

When they notice the tear welling up and they take their finger and gently

wipe it away as it falls onto our cheek.

When without words, they wrap their arms around us and we know we are loved, we

know we are safe, we know we are known.

Just before we collapse into grief or joy, into pain or release, just before the

wail or the scream or the whimper or the laugh, just in that moment, there is peace

Let us hear the sound of that silence

And then there is the greatest silence.

The sound of one last breath exhaled.

That moment right before the Gospels tell us that the temple curtain was

torn in two and the Earth shook and the dead rose, right before the Earth

groaned with a pain never heard before or since, that shattered the silence

in cacophonous ways, right before.

When that breath was exhaled, the most profound moment of silence ever

All the noise and all the air that makes noise even possible

swept into a vacuum of loss.

That sharp moment when death appeared to win.

But in that moment, the silence of all silence is our greatest hope, and

it is where, if we can be still, we hear God's love proclaimed the loudest

Let us hear the sound of that silence

Psalm 46 invites us to imagine the destruction of everything.

Holy Week brought that destruction to life.

Everything is coming apart.

There can be no greater noise than the destruction of all that

is, and yet within that noise is the promise of God's restoration.

All we have to do is trust

How do we make room for that trust

Be still

Be still

Be still and know that God is God

That is the gift of silence

Amen.

Thanks for listening to the sermon podcast from First United Methodist

Church in downtown Bentonville.

If you would like to let us know you were here, follow the link below to connect.

To participate in worship through giving, you can give

online at fumcbentonville.org, or on Venmo at fumcbentonville.

FUMC Bentonville welcomes all.

Because we believe the communion table is God's table, we invite

everyone into our church family.

We welcome and celebrate every race, gender, gender identity, sexual

orientation, marital status, age, physical and mental ability, national origin,

economic station, and political ideology.

We come together in action and outreach, aspiring to follow Jesus' example for

radical hospitality, love, and grace as a transformative movement in our community.

Please join us for worship on Sunday mornings at 9:00 AM, 10:10 AM, and 11:00

AM, live and on our YouTube channel.

Grace and peace

Welcome to the sermon podcast from First United Methodist

Church in downtown Bentonville.

If you have questions related to what you hear today or just want to find

out more about the ministries of First United Methodist Church, please visit us

online at fumcbentonville.org or check us out on Facebook, Instagram, or TikTok.

We are finishing this series in which we look at different spiritual practices,

and today's spiritual practice is silence.

So hear now the word of the Lord.

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear though the earth should change, though the mountains

shake in the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the

mountains tremble with its tumult.

There's a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the

holy habitation of the Most High.

God is in the midst of the city.

It shall not be moved.

God will help it when the morning dawns.

The nations are in an uproar.

The kingdoms totter.

He utters his voice.

The earth melts.

The Lord of hosts is with us.

The God of Jacob is our refuge.

Come behold the works of the Lord.

See what desolations He has brought on the earth.

He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth.

He breaks the bow and shatters the spear.

He burns the shields with fire.

Be still and know that I am God.

I am exalted among the nations.

I am exalted in the earth.

The Lord of hosts is with us.

The God of Jacob is our refuge.

This is the word of God for the people of God.

Thanks be to God.

Let us pray.

Lord, open our hearts, our minds, and our eyes that we might see and know

the word you have for us this day

In your holy name we pray, amen.

Holy Week was a very noisy week.

Remember that it starts with a loud procession in which Jesus comes in on a

donkey and the people shout, "Hosanna!" Then Jesus gets angry and starts

flipping tables over in the temple.

Jesus' teaching and his arguments with the Pharisees and the Sadducees are

taking on a much more heated tone.

There are dishes clanging as the Passover meal is prepared.

The sharp ring of soldiers' swords as they come to arrest Jesus.

Crowds shouting for Jesus to be crucified.

The snap of whips as Jesus is beaten, and the stinging ring of

nails being driven into our Savior.

And all while Jerusalem is crowded down by pilgrims from all nations.

So much noise

But was it any noisier than practically every single day of our lives now?

We are covered over with noise.

The noise of crowds of people around us who seem less and less

inclined to stop and listen, and more inclined to shout us down.

Nearly every room we enter has electronic devices crying out to

us, acting as sirens in both senses, as warning and as temptation.

The machines that surround us never shut up, becoming both punchline,

"Is your refrigerator running?

Better go catch it," an ominous threat to our very livelihood, unless we

happen to be one of the people who keep the machines proverbially running.

Better catch it.

The sounds of cars and trucks invade our rest.

Even light has noise now.

So much noise as to block our ability to see the heavens.

All of creation is crowded down by pilgrims wandering in an automated world.

So much noise.

And yet silence has a way of making itself heard then and now

There is a silence.

A silence when three exhausted men accompanied Jesus into the garden.

As they gave over to the very human weakness of their bodies and fell asleep,

the one they followed also struggled in his humanity, his divine humanity.

As he knelt in the garden and sweat dripped like blood from his

body, as he struggled with the desire to be anywhere else, and

yet he knew his purpose was here.

The choked and anguished silence that came from holding everything

back right before he cried out for God to take this cup from him.

It is not unlike the silence that grips our hearts.

The silence when we finally turn off the news, fooling ourselves into thinking

our exhaustion will overcome our fear.

But the worries keep banging around in our heads.

We can't quiet them down.

We watch videos to figure out how we can flee, how we can be anywhere else,

even as we know our home is here.

We want to cry out too, to beg God to take this cup from us, but the lump in

our throat stops sound from coming out.

Let us hear the sound of that silence

There is another silence.

The silence of two men who are both moving stealthily through the crowd.

One has snuck to the authorities with a promise that he can lead them to Jesus.

One is following at a distance, safe enough to see his friend, but far

enough not to be associated with him.

They are trying to be quiet, except when one man promises he knows him and the

other man assures others he does not.

Though the silence that they experience is at different times, one just

as he approaches the one he will betray, and one as he warms his hands

over a fire before he will deny.

With one silence broken by the sound of a kiss and the others by a rooster

crowing, it is the same silence.

The silence of failure

Like the silence when one we love is caught in a lie.

When the betrayal spills out and we find ourselves thinking back on all

the moments, moments we thought were one thing but were really another.

Moments when our suspicions rose up, but they assured us, gaslit us into

believing we were the crazy ones.

But the truth came out and the lie was exposed and our world fell apart.

There was the noise of begging, of pleading, or of blaming,

trying to cover over everything.

But our ears were closed up, and the noise of the silence was deafening

because we just couldn't hear them anymore

Let us hear the sound of that silence

There is another silence in the limestone walled building where a

government authority interviewed Jesus.

Pilate standing in the cool of his palace with this uncommonly common

man before him, wanting Jesus to break the silence with an explanation,

one that would get him out of this political nightmare he found himself in.

And when Jesus does break the silence, what does he say?

"I was born and came into this world for this reason, to testify to the truth.

Whoever accepts the truth listens to my voice." But Pilate couldn't just listen.

He had to ask, "What is truth?" The silence that lingered after that

question was all the answer he needed

Pilate's voice still echoes today.

What is truth, we wonder, caught in this political nightmare we find ourselves in.

We continue to see people suffering all around us in the

wealthiest country in the world.

People going without food, people kicked to the curb, people imprisoned

without fairness, people whipped without rights, people threatened with harm,

when all any of us really want is to be able to provide for our family, to

keep our loved ones safe, to have food on the table, and a roof over our head.

We all just want to be loved and to love.

That is truth

That is what we shout into the void, and yet it goes unheard.

And if it is unheard, was it ever really spoken?

Or was it silenced all along?

Let us hear the sound of that silence

There is another silence.

It comes after the rush of insults and anger, in haste to beat the

setting sun and find Sabbath upon us, as nails are pulled and a body falls

to the ground, and then as two men run carrying it to get to the tomb.

There is the noise of panic and fear and loss and anger in all of that moment,

and the piercing noise of haste as the stone is rolled, and then the crash of

silence, the deafening silence of the tomb

Like the silence that comes just before the machine grinds to lower

the casket or the stone moves into place on the columbarium.

The silence just after the goodbye.

The goodbye that you were told is just for now, but feels like forever.

Just after the gospel is proclaimed, but long before it is fully experienced,

there is the deafening silence of loss

Let us hear the sound of that silence

But there is another silence.

It takes place in a boisterous meal where people who have become

family are gathered in celebration.

And yes, this meal feels different, heavier in many

ways, but hopeful in others.

Whatever it will come to be, in this moment, it is home.

And there are two silences.

One as he lifts the bread, and one as he lifts the cup.

Right at that precipice where bread and cup are just at the

moment of becoming body and blood, right in that breath, where there

is silence, there is provision, there is promise, there is love.

We know that silence.

We know it when all our people are gathered around the table just before

the food is passed, just as everyone has scooted up to the table, just before

the prayer is offered, when we all take just a moment to look around, to see

all the people, family and friends, who have found their way into our lives,

who represent the ones who have passed from our lives, but seeing in those

around the table a bit of them in the way their hair falls across their eyes, or

in the wink they shot across the table, or in the crooked smile on their face.

Just before thanks are given, just before forks are lifted, in that

silence is past and present and future

Let us hear the sound of that silence

And there is another silence.

In that same room as the meal, in the intimacy of a moment,

there is the noise of objection.

There is the breaking of glass.

There is pouring of ointment, but then there is the silence of touch, the

silence of healing, the silence of love.

As she looked into his eyes and he into hers, in that silence were all

the words that were ever needed.

We know that silence too.

When someone looks into our eyes and we are really seen.

When they notice the tear welling up and they take their finger and gently

wipe it away as it falls onto our cheek.

When, without words, they wrap their arms around us and we know we are loved, we

know we are safe, we know we are known.

Just before we collapse into grief or joy, into pain or release, just before the

wail or the scream or the whimper or the laugh, just in that moment, there is peace

Let us hear the sound of that silence

And then there is the greatest silence.

The sound of one last breath exhaled.

That moment right before the Gospels tell us that the temple curtain was

torn in two and the Earth shook and the dead rose, right before the Earth

groaned with a pain never heard before or since, that shattered the silence

in cacophonous ways, right before.

When that breath was exhaled, the most profound moment of silence ever

All the noise and all the air that makes noise even possible

swept into a vacuum of loss.

That sharp moment when death appeared to win.

But in that moment, the silence of all silence is our greatest hope, and

it is where, if we can be still, we hear God's love proclaimed the loudest

Let us hear the sound of that silence

Psalm 46 invites us to imagine the destruction of everything.

Holy Week brought that destruction to life.

Everything is coming apart.

There can be no greater noise than the destruction of all that

is, and yet within that noise is the promise of God's restoration.

All we have to do is trust.

How do we make room for that trust?

Be still.

Be still.

Be still and know that God is God.

That is the gift of silence.

Amen.

Matt Nelson: Thanks for listening to the sermon podcast from First United

Methodist Church in downtown Bentonville.

If you would like to let us know you were here, follow the link below to connect.

To participate in worship through giving, you can give online at

fumcbentonville.org or on Venmo @fumcbentonville.

FUMC Bentonville welcomes all.

Because we believe the communion table is God's table, we invite

everyone into our church family.

We welcome and celebrate every race, gender, gender identity, sexual

orientation, marital status, age, physical and mental ability, national origin,

economic station, and political ideology.

We come together in action and outreach, aspiring to follow Jesus' example for

radical hospitality, love, and grace as a transformative movement in our community.

Please join us for worship on Sunday mornings at 9:00 AM, 10:10 AM, and 11:00

AM, live and on our YouTube channel.

Grace and peace.