Ever noticed how noisy it is when you are silent, especially now that it's spring? The animals are active. At night, the frogs are croaking relentlessly. Amphibians must have the market on the club scene..."D.J. Ribet!"
Then comes morning. The birds, almost as relentless as the frogs, chirp away at the silence. Most of them are too prude for the night scene; but, of those who wake at dawn, their joy definitely comes in the morning. Birds, frogs, certain insects, even my own household (human, I think) stirs to fill the silence. But that's the thing about silence: it never gets full. Silence is that capacity which is able to hold all sound.
But what sound does a flower make? Yet it fills the silence with its colorful beauty. And a tree that wows us with its girth and strength, silence tolerates those for centuries. Probably of all organisms, fungi understand silence best. They barely disturb the silence, cropping up only to pop off some spores in the form of a mushroom and then disappear again among a vast network of mycelium. How vast? Try 2,400 acres in one eastern Oregon site, estimated to be around 2,200 years old. Fungi understand silence.
Scripture (and the Byrds) tells us there's a season for everything under the sun. That includes a time to fill the silence but also a time to be filled with the silence. I don't know for sure but when Paul was making a lot of racket over his side thorn, God simply filled him with silence: "My grace is sufficient for you."
Silence is sufficient. I'll even go so far as as to say silence is grace. Or does it create more meaning to say grace is silence?