Your Strength Is Found in Quietness and Trust
The kind of confidence that doesn't need to be loud to know that it is real.
"For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel,"
“In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.” But you were unwilling… — Isaiah 30:15 (ESV)
When the prophet Isaiah spoke these words, he was speaking to a people in a panic. An enemy army was on the horizon, and Israel’s leaders were scrambling, making frantic plans, sending envoys to Egypt to secure a military alliance. Their strategy was loud. It was busy. It was, from a human perspective, smart. They were doing everything they could to save themselves.
And into that noise, God speaks this stunningly counter-intuitive counsel. Stop. Return. Rest. Be quiet. Trust.
He tells them their strength won’t be found in the cavalry from Egypt, in the cleverness of their plans, or in the volume of their activity. It would be found in the stillness of their trust in Him. The last line is the heartbreaking one. “But you were unwilling.” They couldn't believe strength could be so quiet. So they chose the noise instead.
I wonder how often I do the same.
I used to think confidence was a personality trait I just didn’t have. It belonged to the women who spoke up first in meetings, who never seemed to doubt their calling, who posted their wins with an easy, unapologetic glow. My own faith felt so much quieter, often riddled with questions, more comfortable in the corner of the room than at the center of it.
I remember an afternoon a few years ago, scrolling through my phone in the blue light of my bedroom. A friend had announced a huge, wonderful, God-given achievement. My first feeling was joy for her, pure and simple. But then, a familiar ache began to creep in. The quiet, frantic hum of comparison. The feeling of being left behind. The immediate urge was to do something—to get busy, to make a plan, to prove that I was also moving forward. My “Egypt” was my own ambition, my own timeline, my own need to measure up.
But that day, Isaiah’s words came to mind. In quietness and in trust shall be your strength.
Instead of opening my laptop, I put my phone down. I sat in the silence, the only sounds being the hum of the refrigerator and my own breathing. I didn’t have a great, soaring prayer. I just sat there and admitted to God, I feel small. I feel behind. I am tempted to run and strive. But I want to trust you instead. It wasn't a lightning-bolt moment. It was just a quiet exchange. A returning.
This is the confidence God offers. It’s a different kind of strength.
It’s the strength to be still when the world is shouting at you to hurry up. It’s the quiet assurance that your worth is not tied to your productivity or your visibility. It’s the gentle power to celebrate someone else without it diminishing your own story. It's the kind of quiet that Dearly will sit with you in, if you need a place to start.
This confidence doesn’t need a megaphone. It doesn’t need to have the last word. It can say, “I don’t know,” without shame. It can listen more than it speaks. It’s a confidence that can be worn, a quiet reminder around your neck like the Promise Cross I keep close. It is rooted not in our own abilities, but in the simple, unshakable fact of His presence.
It’s the strength of a soul that has learned, slowly and over time, that it is safe to be still. That it is safe to trust Him.
Father, forgive me for the ways I have looked for strength in noise and hustle. Quiet my heart. Teach me to find my confidence not in what I can do, but in who You are. Help me to trust the gentle strength You give in the stillness.
A Prayer
Lord, settle the heart of the woman reading this. Let her hear You in the quiet, and trust the slow, faithful work of becoming.
Amen.
Written by
The Essence Editorial Team
A small team of women writing, editing, and praying over every letter that appears here. Every article is reviewed by a human editor who shares this faith.