The Sacred Work of Stillness in Full Bloom
- Andrea Brown
- May 3
- 8 min read
What if God’s next thing for you isn’t something new but a deeper return to the One thing?
What if Jesus calls you to a season of stillness, quietness, and holiness amid a season in full bloom?
I find myself in such a season.
The air hums with hope, bees buzz, birds sing, blossoms gently unfold, and everything around me whispers of life and newness. Everything feels like a signal to start again, step into more, and move. And yet He calls me to be still. Not stagnant, not disengaged, but still rooted, watching, listening, and preparing.
In this space of stillness, He’s revealing something sacred. Something I would have missed if I rushed.
“Thus the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks to his friend. When Moses turned again into the camp, his assistant Joshua the son of Nun, a young man,
would not depart from the tent.”
Exodus 33:11.
Joshua stewarded the Presence quietly, unannounced to anyone else. He stewarded the stillness, hiddenness, long before he was sent.
I.
The Holy Pause: When Stillness Is the Assignment
When God gave the vision—not once but three times—I thought it was time to go. But then came silence—no marching orders, no strategy, just quiet. At first, I questioned it. Did I miss something? Was I supposed to act?
But in that hush, I heard Him more clearly than ever: "Remain.”
There is work in stillness. The process isn't a delay; it's divine alignment. God isn't withholding the next step. He draws me closer, deepening my roots and teaching me to hear His whisper in a world full of noise. In the past, I would have fought this stillness, wrestling with it. I’m learning the pause is a holy interruption. It’s preparation and an invitation to be filled, formed, and fashioned by His hand. God is sowing the discipline of deeper communion, a rhythm of rest and trust that is becoming a wellspring of living water.
Have you been here?
Perhaps you’re there now, in a season where nothing is outwardly moving, but everything within you is being rearranged. The ache you feel isn’t distance from God; it’s hunger for Him. The ache in your heart isn't from breaking but from circumcision. The pain in your bones is His refining fire. The God who called you isn’t finished. But He’s forming something in you that can’t be rushed. Thus, the pause has a purpose, and it's holy.
II.
Holy Stirring is as Cultivated in Stillness
In the waiting, there’s an undercurrent. A holy anticipation that something is on the horizon. I feel it in my spirit; we are standing on holy ground on the edge of something sacred. God is awakening His people. He invites us to participate in His next move, not through hustle but holiness. And that begins in hiddenness.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the saints of old, Moses, Joshua, and Elisha, those who stood at the threshold of something God was about to do. They stood at divine intersections, where the natural trembled before the supernatural. And now, in a season where everything is shifting, and breakthrough feels so near, I cry out. Not for a platform. Not for performance. But a double portion of the anointing, the oil of consecration: for holiness, power, and His will to be fulfilled in and through me.
Are you crying out as well?
Beloved, this season is not passive. It is intensely active beneath the surface. It’s a place for us to make room for more of the Lord, more of His Spirit, more oil. Because when the time comes to step forward, it will not be cleverness or charm that sustains us; it will be holy oil.
III.
Consecration Before Commission
Oil is essential for where the LORD is taking us. I'm intrigued by the parable of the ten virgins, which is layered with meaning. However, one truth stands out: They were all invited, but only some were ready.
Ten virgins were waiting for the bridegroom, much like we are doing now. All had lamps, but only five had oil. The oil wasn’t a last-minute addition. It was a result of preparation marked by intimacy.
In the Bible, oil symbolizes many things. Two things I want to point out here are the anointing and the Spirit. Friends, the times we are living in require both. For the work the LORD has prepared for us, we need not only to be filled, but we are admonished to be being filled with Spirit, so we have oil in every season for wisdom, consecration, revelation, redemption, sanctification, anointing, and power.
One thing is sure: We can’t live on borrowed oil, expect past seasons to sustain present callings, or manufacture what can only come by abiding in the Spirit.
Jesus said the bridegroom was delayed. And in the delay, they slept. That part hits 👊🏾: they all slept, even the wise ones. But what they did or did not do determined whether or not they were prepared for the bridegroom.
Here’s the thing: stillness is not failure, and rest is not neglect. How we see these seasons determines whether we steward them or let the time slip away. Consider: Jesus did most of His miracles on the Sabbath, which points to a critical revelation about God’s character—He works when we rest. He imparts Himself in seasons of stillness, and the question becomes, are we aware of Him?
Going back to the bridegroom’s delay is also crucial and reminds me of when Moses ascended Mount Sinai, and the people grew impatient, “They made a calf in those days, and offered a sacrifice to the idol and rejoiced in the works of their hands.” Acts 7:41.
In what seemed to be Moses' delay, the people defaulted to self-effort. They lost sight of their identity as God’s chosen people, set apart for His special purpose. They filled the silence with noise of their own making and the works of their hands. And isn’t that so often our temptation?
When I look back to how my season began, amid several projects, I remember lying in bed, feeling the need to slow down and be still, and my heart quietly questioning what the Lord was doing.
As I continued to remove things I had placed on my plate, in that stillness, I heard His whisper: “Daughter, you have Me.” I know my heart rang out, "But I..." Then again, I distinctly remember as though Jesus was standing in the room, hearing: "You have Me. I am your portion. I am your inheritance."
Since then, my confession has remained steady: “The Lord is my portion, my inheritance.”
When spring arrives, we naturally want to move. It is easy to jump to the next thing in a season when everything around us is bustling and blooming. The tendency is to go and do.
But I am considering: What if the most precious sacrifice is to linger longer in His presence, to know Him, and allow ourselves to be lavished in His love? What if God asks us to wait a little longer, to let our roots go deeper, bearing the first fruits of the Spirit laden with fresh oil?
IV.
When Excitement Forfeits Alignment
I don't know about you, but I can be so excited about what the Lord has for me that I run ahead, like the child at Disneyland. At first, I walk in the cadence with my father, gently tugging on his hand because excitement builds, pulling him to the next greatest thing, then suddenly loosening my grip and forging ahead to get to the destination.
Has this happened to you?
I remember one such occasion all too fondly. I turned at the gate entrance, the thud in my chest, elation drained from my face, only to become overwhelmed with fear because I could no longer see my dad. I thought he had gotten lost in the crowd, but it was me. I lost sight of him, even though he always had his eye on me. I lost the sense of security and safety.
I can sometimes have this same zeal with the things of God, which is far more troublesome because when I run before Him, I'm moving without the guidance of the Spirit, outside His will, without His grace, and where there is no oil. The assignment God created, especially for me, has now become tainted because of me and requires me to maintain it. My striving removes the enjoyment, taking what God designed to be glorious to a place that is laborious, frustrating, and even discouraging when it was never meant to be.
Excitement is a gift, but must be tethered to obedience to the One who is the Gift.
“Sow for yourselves righteousness; Reap in mercy; Break up your fallow ground, For it is time to seek the Lord, Till He comes and rains righteousness on you.”
Hosea 10:12.
V.
The Cost and Beauty of the Oil
Beloved, oil is essential. It cannot be borrowed or manufactured. But it comes at a cost. The oil flows as we lay aside every weight, every distraction, and every lesser love that hinders our nearness to Him.
“Come, and let us return to the Lord; For He has torn, but He will heal us;
He has stricken, but He will bind us up.”
Hosea 6:1
❦
“After two days He will revive us; On the third day He will raise us up,
That we may live in His sight.”
Hosea 6:2.
❦
“Let us know; let us pursue the knowledge of the Lord. His going forth is established as the morning; He will come to us like the rain, Like the latter and former rain to the earth.”
Hosea 6:3.
If we aren't intentional about stillness before being commissioned, we will find it utterly impossible during the mission. The One Thing can drift, becoming the last thing when we become busy with other things. Therefore, let’s keep Jesus the main thing–His presence priority.
A Final Invitation:
If you’ve been swept away by the fragrance of lilies,
If you’ve chased the breeze through green pastures,
If you’ve run after open doors but lost sight of the One who opens them,
Return.
The Bridegroom awaits you, not in the chaos, but in the quiet.
He is not hiding from you.
He is waiting for you.
And when you see Him, Stay. Remain. Linger.
The One thing will always be the Only thing that matters.
Be glad then, you children of Zion,
And rejoice in the Lord your God;
For He has given you the former rain faithfully,
And He will cause the rain to come down for you—
The former rain,
And the latter rain in the first month.
The threshing floors shall be full of wheat,
And the vats shall overflow with new wine and oil.
Joel 2:23-24.
VI.
Blooming in the Stillness
Spring, you are here.
And yet, I do not feel rushed to move.
I feel drawn to remain.
❦
The Lord’s warmth rests on my face.
My petals open not to the world—but to the Son.
His breath refreshes me like the latter rain.
❦
He whispers: “Linger with Me. Feast on My Word. Rest in My love.”
This is not a season of scarcity. It is a table spread with abundance.
He does not invite me into restlessness but into romance.
Into remembrance: Into the one thing that matters more than all else.
❦
“One thing I have asked of the Lord, that I will seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to
inquire in His temple.”
Psalm 27:4















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