The chaos seems angry. It is as if dark forces conspire to keep their victims captive in a cold place filled with fear and insecurity.

At first light, as a symptom of our time, we feverishly grab the first device our hands can reach to check the latest news. The last updated statistics or graph showing the death rate, infection numbers, pensions or the stock market become our guidelines for the day. We act fanatically. We check the numbers again and again. Each time we need to know – has it risen, has it dropped. Each time fear erodes our peace of mind.  

If only we could hear better amidst the chaos. If only we could note the whisper in the quiet … 'Be still and know: I am the Lord'.

On our flat screen TVs in our living rooms, we see images of fearful eyes walking down the road. All you can see are the eyes – the rest of the face is hidden behind a sterile white mask. The masks are supposed to ward off chaos. Other flashing images show deserted streets and landmarks.  Tourist attractions are completely void of life, there are no signs of the milling masses of a few weeks ago. They are static, cloaked by emptiness. The emptiness is also symptomatic. It is symptomatic of the chaos.     

If only someone could remind us of the whisper in the silence…  'Be still and know:  I am.'

'Power sharing', says my young son when the darkness overpowers us like a masked thief in the night. For my son it is simply how things work. It is how he got to know the world. Earlier today at a traffic light stripped of its ability to change from green to orange to red and back, the scene seems surrealistic. Without light, it is simply a yellow pole that is supposed to maintain order. Without light, it is simply ornamental, guarding chaos. It seems surreal in this century to navigate the way home in darkness. It creates a feeling of hopelessness.  

If only I could have the assurance of the whisper in the quiet: 'Be still and know'. 

There at the ornamental traffic light, I learn something about myself and the guy that uses rude hand signals, seemingly because he has a more dire need to get home. I learn how we react differently to the angry chaos.  I see how some fight fire with fire. I learn that their anger become their way of life. Other people seem to be untouched by the wave, but assign, sombre and sinister, blame for everything to things outside themselves and others. I get there too. Others are fearful. Then there are those that are afraid. Some wants to escape. I get there too... 

If only someone could help me to hear the whisper in the silence: 'Be still'.

Chaos happens when we lose control. It is a situation of unpredictable disorder. It is a spectacular demasking. It destroys the illusion that we are in control of everything. 

If only I could hand over control for a moment and being stripped of control simply, for a short moment: 'Be'.

But, chaos is fertile. Stripped of control, disillusioned and realising how small we really are, realising that which is truly important – that is when we often hear the whisper in the quiet at its best: 'Be still and know, I am the Lord'.

If we happen to hear this, it brings about new perspective. When we are quiet, the stillness creates space to reflect just that within the midst of threatening disaster.  It leaves us with a deep realisation that we have forgotten that which is majestic. Greedy hearts become quieter. A husband and wife that have not spoken to each other in years are forced to look each other in the eyes again... A father reads to his child again… 

Perhaps the angry chaos is a wake-up call that will allow us to listen and hear again…