SELAH, PAUSE, REFLECT, & CONNECT

My normal pattern of writing a devotional is to start with a Bible verse that has spoken to me and prompted me to write on that theme; but today it's a beautiful poem called "Selah" by a lady called Sarah Trent that has stirred me to write, which I have included below.

I have not noticed this beautiful, mysterious Hebrew word "Selah" in the Bible before, and it's one of those words we tend to overlook. It appears in the text of the King James Version and other translations, but in the New International Version (NIV), which is the translation I generally read, it appears as a footnote, which is probably the reason that I have just discovered it!

I am, by no means a Biblical scholar, and when I read Hebrew words, I am instantly reminded of that, but this word "Selah" I wanted to know more about. So digging a bit deeper, it appears to have multiple meanings and translations; but some of the possible meanings of the word are intermission, pause and interlude, which makes sense, since it is most commonly found in the musical Psalms and indicates a pause - a time of reflection on what was just read or sung. It forced us to slow down, rest and consider.

How many times have we sung a song in church, or read a familiar passage of Scripture, and halfway through we have forgotten what we sang or read? We can frequently rush right onto the next verse, without pausing long enough to think. Our mouths can get the words right, but our hearts and minds are elsewhere.

We need a minute or two to catch our breath, or sit, and ponder on the words of the song or passage of Scripture. Selah.

From creation to the incarnation, God shows us a rhythm of work and rest, of doing and ceasing the doing. Although we don't know exactly what the writers of the Psalms meant when they placed "selah" in their compositions, we can still see a rhythm that echoes God's intention for His creation, especially for His people. There are moments, when we all need to hit the pause button. Life races on and, if we are not careful, we lose the joy and purpose of it all. We over commit ourselves and undervalue the health of our souls.

Much is accomplished in the pauses of life. God renews our strength in those waiting times (Isaiah 40:31). The pause doesn't mean "doing nothing" it should have a purpose; to ponder, to pray, to praise, to plan and to prioritise. There is no "stop" button for life - it will go on till God says it is finished. But, we can pause and take a spiritual inventory on our lives and contemplate:

What is truly important?

What is missing?

Is something draining our energy and distracting our attention?

What is God's plan for our lives?

These are questions that cannot be considered, much less answered, while we are living in the blur of ceaseless activity. So don't feel guilty for hitting the pause button. Silence is good. Stillness is necessary.

My soul longs for "selah" moments, whether I am aware of it, or not. The "to do" list hovers, but the LORD's voice whispers to pull away to a quiet place, to open the Bible (maybe the Psalms) and be willing to slow down, rest, and connect with Him and His word.

As we encounter the word "Selah", stop reading or praying, take a deep breath, and quietly ponder the truth or promise we have read, and focus on God's presence and breathe in His peace, and find refuge and strength in Him.

 "Be still and know that I am God" Selah (Psalm 46:10)

Since the words of this poem prompted me to write this devotional, I will end with the words of Sarah Trent:

"So I sit. I breathe. I ache. I hope.

And I whisper that word with trembling lips - Selah."

God bless

Sue

Poem by Sarah Trent.

I am living in the “Selah.”

The sacred space between the cry and the comfort. The hollow pause between the groaning and the glory.

Between “Why, Lord?” and “Now I see.”

Between the ashes and the crown.

Selah…I used to rush past that word in the Psalms. Skimmed it like a speed bump on the way to something louder, clearer, resolved.

But now I know it’s more than a pause.

It is a dwelling place.

A deep exhale in the middle of unanswered prayers.

A quiet held between sobs and songs.

I am sitting here, in the ache that has not yet lifted, in the wound that has not yet healed,

in the prayer that still waits for its amen.

I am not where I was, but not yet where I long to be. I am in the middle…the Selah.

And I am learning this:

The pause is not empty.

The silence is not God’s absence.

It is His breath over the waters again.

It is the same voice that spoke in the beginning, not always with words, but with weight.

With presence.

Here, He teaches me to wait like the psalmists did, not with passive resignation, but with hope.

Selah does not mean the story is over.

It means: Stop. Ponder. Let the weight of what was just said sink into your bones.

It means: Don’t miss this moment.

It means: God is still speaking, even in the stillness.

This is the space between grief and healing.

Between brokenness and breakthrough.

Between Good Friday and Resurrection Morning.

I thought healing would feel like a moment, a flash of divine power.

But what if healing looks more like dwelling in the pause?

Like learning to trust the Surgeon while He’s still stitching the wound closed?

Selah: the ground is still wet with my tears,

but the roots are reaching deeper.

Selah: I am not whole, but I am being held.

Selah: I don’t have answers, but I know the Answerer is near.

I used to beg for the fast-forward button.

Now I just pray not to miss Him in the slow unfolding.

Not to miss the revelation in the space between.

So I sit. I breathe. I ache. I hope.

And I whisper that word with trembling lips—

Selah.