Silence is Golden

The Breakfast Where My Mouth Was Frying Bacon Faster Than My Brain Could Flip It

I remember one particular morning on a trip sitting at breakfast with a female traveling companion. I have a long-term friendship with this beautiful woman, but we are not and have never been in a romantic relation.

We’re just part of this ragtag little fellowship of friends who collect museums, concerts, fine dining experiences, and long stories the way other folks collect stamps.

She’s good people. She is smart, funny, well-read, the sort who could make a grocery list sound interesting. And bless her heart, she tolerated me.

Now, I have this habit. It’s really an unholy one. I can hijack a conversation. Not meaning to, of course. It’s like my mouth starts running and forgets it’s supposed to be hooked up to my ears. I know she’s cringed once or twice, maybe thought about grabbing her coffee and making a break for it.

But that morning, as we sat at breakfast, I finally had to stop talking long enough to breathe. And she slipped in the softest little truth-telling you ever heard. She said, all grace and no malice, “I don’t need your full life story again or one of your cross-country rambles. You know what your problem is? You don’t know when not to talk. Just stay with the conversation. Don’t chase every rabbit that hops across your mind.”

Well. Yikes. Guilt as charged.

Certified Southern Champion of Talking When I Should Be Listening

I’ve always had this tendency. Someone shares something meaningful like a story, a hurt, some family drama, and instead of listening, really listening, I launch into a completely different tale about somebody else who once had something sort of similar happen. It’s rude. It’s selfish. It’s lonely, too, if I’m being honest. Mostly, it shows I hadn’t yet learned the sacred art of shutting up.

My late grandmother tried to warn me. I was barely old enough to shave when she said, “Jimmie Aaron, girls don’t much care about what you know, where you’ve been, or how many stories you can tell, unless you’re saying something sweet about them. That’s why they like the strong, silent types.”

If only I’d listened.

I talked myself off the honor roll once or twice. Not academically, but because I got dinged for “citizenship.” In school, in work, all through life, folks have said kindly but firmly, “Jimmie’s a bit too social.” Or, “Jimmie needs to tighten up his speech. He needs to talk like he writes: short, sharp, and without all the scenic detours.”

Lord Knows Grandma Tried, but My Mouth Was Louder Than Her Wisdom

And then, just recently, I stumbled across that line in Isaiah: “But they were silent and answered him not a word…” Hezekiah had told his people to keep their lips zipped while the Assyrian envoy was boasting threats at them. It wasn’t the moment for comebacks or explanations. It was a time for silence.

“But they were silent and answered him not a word, for the king’s command was, ‘Do not answer him.’”

Isaiah 36:21 (ESV)

And there have been so many times I should’ve done the same.

You see, many words tend to drag you straight into trouble. The whole proverb goes on to say something that basically amounts to: “Keep talking and you’ll make a fool of yourself.” Talk long enough and you’ll spill a secret you shouldn’t, drop a sharp word you didn’t mean, or wander into territory that never needed visiting. Lots of things in life are better left unsaid.

And when you won’t stop talking, you can’t hear anything. Not your friends. Not the people you love. Not even God.

Learning the Holy Gospel of Shush: When God Says ‘Hush Your Mouth’

I keep reminding myself God gave me two ears and one tongue on purpose, but you’d never guess it from the way I operate. The people on the wall in Hezekiah’s day listened. I wish I could say I always do.

Talking and listening can’t happen at the same time. One always elbows the other out of the way.

But there are moments, holy ones, healing ones, when silence is gold enough to buy back peace you’ve wasted. These days, I’m learning to ask God to show me those moments. When to hold my tongue. When to speak gently, if at all. When to honor someone not with a story of my own, but with my quiet attention.

Because sometimes the most loving thing a person can do is simply hush.

During the sounds of silence is when you can hear God.

Here’s a few examples from God’s word:

Proverbs 10:19 directly connects a multitude of words with making a mistake.

“When words are many, sin is unavoidable, but he who restrains his lips is wise.”

Proverbs 10:19

Ecclesiastes 10:12–14 contrasts the speech of the wise and the foolish.

“The words of a wise person are gracious and win favor, but the lips of a fool lead to their own ruin…”

Ecclesiastes 10:12–14 

Proverbs 17:28 reminds us that silence often prevents foolishness.

“Even a fool who keeps silent is considered wise…”

Proverbs 17:28

Grace and Peace
Jimmie Aaron Kepler

Did you enjoy this article? You can find more of Jimmie Aaron Kepler’s non-fiction books at NONFICTION and his speculative fiction books written as Jim Kepler at FICTION.

Casting Cares

You know, there’s a verse I’ve carried around in my back pocket for a long time.
It’s from First Peter, “Cast all your cares on Him, because He cares for you.”
Simple words. But they hit deep when the world starts feeling too heavy to hold.


Cast all your cares on Him, because He cares for you.
1 Peter 5:7

Life’s Tough

I’ll be honest with you, sometimes life just flat-out wears me down.
There are days when it feels like everything’s coming apart at the seams.
I’ve had those moments where I just wanted to shout, or throw my hands up and walk away from it all. Maybe you’ve been there too.

Last year about this time, I hit one of those rough patches.
First, the hot water heater gave up the ghost.
Then the car decided it wanted in on the fun and needed major repairs.
My little pile of emergency savings started looking more like pocket change.
And to top it off, my hand locked up with trigger finger. It needed surgery. And wouldn’t you know it, there were complications after that too.

Why Me Lord

I remember sitting there one night thinking, “Why me, Lord?”
Yeah, I actually said it out loud. Just me and the ceiling fan, having it out.
Ever had one of those nights? Yeah… me too.

Somewhere in the middle of that mess, I remembered that verse. “Cast all your cares on Him.”
So I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote it all down. Every worry, every frustration, every bit of that “I can’t take it anymore” feeling.
Then I bowed my head and said, “God, here. These are Yours now. I’m done carrying ‘em.
You said You care for me, so I’m holding You to it. Help me feel that care. Help me stop thinking the world’s caving in. Help me trust You.”

A Quiet Peace

And I swear to you, something shifted. It wasn’t lightning bolts or angels singing. There was just this quiet peace, like somebody took the weight off my chest.
I realized how lucky I actually was . I had enough in savings to fix what needed fixing, had good doctors and insurance, and still had people around me who cared. That realization alone felt like a miracle.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Everything didn’t suddenly turn perfect.
But the panic disappeared. The peace of God filled that empty space where worry used to live.

After that night, I started thinking about how many times I’ve tried to play Superman. As if I could muscle through everything life threw at me just by gritting my teeth and “being tough.”
That’s a fool’s game, I’ve learned. Life’s got a way of humbling you real quick.

Funny thing, though, every time I hit that breaking point, it’s like God’s been sitting there, patient as can be, waiting for me to finally hand Him the wheel.
He doesn’t barge in, doesn’t holler, doesn’t demand. Just waits till I wear myself out, then whispers, “You done yet? Let Me take it from here.”

Peace Slips In

And when I finally do… when I finally let go of that white-knuckled grip on everything…
peace slips in quiet, like the dawn easing over a country field.
It’s not dramatic, not flashy. It’s just steady. Kind of like a hand on your shoulder saying, “You’re gonna be alright.”

Since then, I’ve tried to make a little habit of it. Not just when life falls apart, but in the small stuff too.
You’d be amazed how much time we spend worrying over things that don’t deserve a tenth of our energy.
The bills, the weather, what so-and-so said at work, what might happen next week.
I catch myself spinning on all that, then I hear that verse again, “Cast your cares.”
It’s not a suggestion; it’s an invitation.

God Cares for Us

See, God doesn’t just tolerate us when we’re a mess. He cares for us. Deeply.
The same way a good father cares for his kid when they come home busted up and teary-eyed.
He’s not rolling His eyes; He’s pulling us close, saying, “I’ve got you.”

I wish I could tell you I’ve got it all figured out, that I never worry anymore, that I’ve mastered this whole “faith” thing.
But I haven’t. Some days I still fall right back into the trap. I’m once more trying to fix everything myself, forgetting the One who actually can.
But when I finally come to my senses and let go, it’s like taking a deep breath after holding it for too long.

So yeah, maybe life’s still got its potholes and flat tires.
Maybe the water heater still leaks now and then.
But I’ve learned something in all of it. Peace doesn’t come from having everything fixed.
It comes from knowing Who’s walking beside you while it’s all getting fixed.

I Remember

These days, when life starts feeling like it’s piling on again, when the phone rings with bad news, I get a text that stirs my emotions, or the bills seem taller than my paycheck;
I remember that night at the kitchen table.
The one with the piece of paper covered in worries and a coffee cup ring in the corner.
That wasn’t just me unloading my troubles. That was me learning how to live lighter.

See, faith ain’t about pretending everything’s fine.
It’s about knowing where to put the stuff that isn’t.
It’s learning that when your shoulders are tired, you don’t have to carry it all.
You can hand it over to Someone who doesn’t get tired.

I’ve come to see God not as some far-off figure, but as a friend who’s walked a lot of dusty roads with me or been with me as I’ve crossed the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans.
He’s been there when I was singing high and when I was crawling low.
When I look back over the years at the heartbreaks, the passing of my spouse Miss Benita and my parents dying, the surgeries, the empty bank accounts, the quiet nights of wondering what now, I can see His fingerprints all over it. Not always changing the situation, but always changing me.

So when Peter says, “Cast all your cares on Him, for He cares for you,”
I hear it like an old country song lyric. It’s simple, true, and worth humming through the hard times.
It’s not fancy theology; it’s just good living.

And maybe that’s what I’ve been trying to say this whole time, that peace isn’t about a perfect life. It’s about trust.
It’s about believing that the One who made the stars actually cares about your busted water heater and your broken heart.

He’s Never Failed Me Yet

So yeah, I still get anxious. I still have days when I want to holler, “Why me, Lord?”
But I don’t stay there long anymore. I’ve learned to write it down, pray it out, and hand it over.
Because He’s never failed me yet, not once.

And if you’re out there today or tonight feeling that same weight, just remember:
you don’t have to carry it alone. Cast it off, friend. Let it go.
He’s got big enough hands to hold it all.

Grace and Peace
Jimmie Aaron Kepler

Did you enjoy this article? You can find more of Jimmie Aaron Kepler’s non-fiction books at NONFICTION and his speculative fiction books written as Jim Kepler at FICTION.

Miss Benita and Psalm 31

You ever stumble on a verse that just sticks to your soul?
For us, it was Psalm 31:24“Be strong, and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.”

Now, I didn’t learn that from a preacher.
I learned it sittin’ beside my wife,
my sweet Miss Benita,
when the doctor looked us dead in the eyes
and said the word melanoma. 

Stage three, cancer, he said.
They’d done all they could,
but if it came back —
well, he didn’t have to finish that sentence.
We already knew.

And sure enough,
a few months later,
it came knockin’ again.
The oncologist told us to make her comfortable.
Said to focus on the quality of the time we had left.
That’s the kind of talk that empties a room of air.

We were scared.
We were broken.
But we did the only thing two folks who love Jesus could do,
we held hands and started prayin’.
We opened that old Bible,
and that Psalm became our heartbeat:
“Be strong, and take heart.”

We weren’t strong,
but somehow, God was.

Then came the people,
our friends from work,
our Prestonwood Baptist Church family,
the Bible fellowship crowd.
They came with casseroles,
and prayers that filled the silence
when words just wouldn’t come.
They sat with us through the storm,
and somehow, we weren’t alone anymore.

Now, Miss Benita…
she was somethin’ else.
Even when the cancer spread,
even when her body gave way,
her spirit never did.
She’d sit there in that hospital bed,
typing emails and writing cards
to folks on the church prayer list.
She’d tell them God loves you,
even when she was the one
starin’ at the valley ahead.

When the cancer reached her brain,
it took her words,
her reading, her writing,
but it never touched her faith.
She told me, plain as day,
“My hope’s not here, it’s in the Lord.”

And near the end…
there was this peace about her,
not the quiet kind,
but the deep kind,
the kind that hums under your ribs
like a steady song.

When she passed,
she did it with grace,
like she was just walkin’ home barefoot
through a field she already knew.

And I’ll tell you what,
she left more behind than sorrow.
She left faith that still burns.
She left love that still moves.
She left a verse that won’t let me go:

“Be strong, and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.”

It’s not just ink on paper anymore.
It’s a promise.
It’s her voice.
It’s my compass.

And I reckon that’s the legacy of Miss Benita —
not how long she lived,
but how she loved,
how she believed,
and how she taught the rest of us
to keep hopin’ in the dark.

Bible Verse:

“Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the Lord.”

Psalm 31:24 (KJV)

Who Wrote Psalm 31:24 — and When?

Most folks agree that King David wrote Psalm 31:24. David penned a lot of the Psalms we still hold dear today. Songs and prayers straight from a heart that had seen both mountaintops and valleys.

We don’t know the exact date he wrote it. The Psalms came together over a long stretch of time. Probably across a few centuries. But David’s words were so honest and full of life that generations kept them alive, and by the time the Second Temple stood (somewhere between 500 BC and 70 AD) they were gathered and cherished much like we read them now.

When you think about it, that’s something. A man’s prayer from thousands of years ago still reaching out across time to strengthen hearts today.

The Setting of Psalm 31:24

Psalm 31 is David crying out to God for help when the world seemed to be closing in.
Enemies on every side, fear in the air. Yet his trust never broke.

This verse, “Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord,” is how David closes his prayer. It’s like he’s saying, “I’ve been down in the pit, and I’ve seen the light of God’s faithfulness. Hang on, He’s still with you.”

The psalm starts with David begging for rescue and ends with him reminding himself and anyone who’ll listen to stand firm in faith. It’s that moment when you’ve been through the storm, and you can finally tell others, “God carried me through.”

The Meaning of Psalm 31:24

This verse is a call to courage in the middle of chaos.
David had his share of trouble. He faced betrayal, fear, loneliness. But even while running for his life, he could still look up and say, “The Lord is my strength.”

When he says “Be strong and take heart,” he’s not talking about gritting your teeth and muscling through. He’s talking about leaning into the kind of strength only God can give — the strength that shows up when your own runs out.

It’s David saying, “Keep trusting. Keep hoping. God hasn’t forgotten you.”

“Be of Good Courage” — What Does That Mean?

When David says, “Be of good courage,” he’s talking to people just like you and me. He talking to us folk who get tired, scared, or flat-out worn down.

He’s saying, “Don’t give up.” Not because you’ve got all the answers, but because you know Who holds them.

Courage, in David’s world, wasn’t about standing tall — it was about standing still and trusting God to move.

“He Shall Strengthen Your Heart” — What Does That Mean?

That’s David’s way of saying, “God’s gonna meet you right in the middle of your fear.”

When your heart’s heavy and your knees are weak, He’s the One who gives you what you need to keep going.

This isn’t physical strength. It’s heart strength. It’s that quiet confidence that says, “I can face what’s coming because I know Who’s beside me.”

“All You Who Hope in the Lord” — What Does That Mean?

This part reminds us we’re not walking alone.

There’s a whole family of believers out there. They’re all hoping, all hanging on to the same promise.

When you put your hope in God, you’re stepping into that community of faith. You’re part of something bigger. You’re part of a people through every generation who’ve trusted God to carry them through.

Different Bible Translations

Each translation gives this verse its own flavor, but the heart stays the same:

  • KJV: “Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the Lord.”
  • NIV: “Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.”
  • ESV: “Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord.”

No matter how you say it, the message holds, keep your courage, because God strengthens those who hope in Him.

How Psalm 31:24 Brings Encouragement

This verse has carried a lot of weary souls through long nights.

It’s a reminder that we don’t walk this road alone. It tells us that God’s strength is real and near.

When life gets hard, Psalm 31:24 whispers, “You’re not finished yet. God’s still working. Take heart.”

It doesn’t promise an easy road. It promises a faithful God.

How to Live Out Psalm 31:24

Here’s how I see it:

  • Find your strength in God. When life knocks you down, lean into Him. He’s got the strength you don’t.
  • Take heart. Keep your faith alive, even when you can’t see daylight yet.
  • Trust in the Lord. Believe that His plans are good, even when the path doesn’t make sense.
  • Encourage others. Share what you’ve learned. Tell somebody else, “You’re not alone. God’s not done yet.”

That’s how this verse becomes more than just words — it becomes a way to live.

A Psalm 31:24 Prayer

Dear Lord,

When my courage fades and my heart grows tired, remind me You are still my strength.

Help me face this day with faith and hope, knowing You walk with me through every step.

Strengthen my heart, Lord. Give me the courage to keep trusting, even when I don’t see the way ahead.

Let Your peace fill me, and let Your love flow through me to others who need it too.

Thank You for being my rock and my refuge, today and always.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

Closing Thoughts

Psalm 31:24 is more than a verse. It’s a lifeline. It tells us to hold steady, to take courage, and to keep our hope anchored in the Lord.

Because no matter what comes our way, we’re never walking it alone.

And when our strength runs out — His never will.

Grace and Peace
Jimmie

Did you enjoy this article? You can find more of Jimmie Aaron Kepler’s non-fiction books at NONFICTION and his speculative fiction books written as Jim Kepler at FICTION.