I am a minister, photographer, retreat leader, author and Quaker -- albeit one who's not always good at being a good Quaker. I am the author of "Awaken Your Senses," "Holy Silence: The Gift of Quaker Spirituality," "Mind the Light: Learning to See with Spiritual Eyes" and "Sacred Compass: The Path of Spiritual Discernment" (foreword by Richard Foster). This blog is a compendium of writing, photography, seriousness and silliness -- depending on my mood.
Saturday, December 17, 2016
Silence in a Noisy Season: Silence Is Not A Waste of Time
Rachel Needham, quoted in Quaker Faith and Practice: Second Edition, #2:17.
From Holy Silence: The Gift of Quaker Spirituality, 2nd edition
Friday, December 16, 2016
Silence in a Noisy Season: Taking Time Silence -- and God
Thursday, December 15, 2016
Silence in a Noisy Season: Silence -- Heard in the Heart
Wednesday, December 14, 2016
Silence in a Noisy Season: Silence Kindles Our Souls
Tuesday, December 13, 2016
Silence in a Noisy Season: Silence Is A Holy Whisper
Thomas R. Kelly, A Testament of Devotion, 116.
Monday, December 12, 2016
Silence in a Noisy Season: Silence and Service
Sunday, December 11, 2016
Silence in a Noisy Season: Silence = SoulSpeak
Diana Lampen, Facing Death (London: Quaker Home Service, 1979), 22, 27.
Saturday, December 10, 2016
Silence in a Noisy Season: Silence and Pain
Friday, December 09, 2016
Silence in a Noisy Season: God Speaks in the Silence
"I thought this would be a very easy matter, and so I began to get still. But I had no sooner commenced than a perfect pandemonium of voices reached my ears, a thousand clamoring notes from without and within, until I could hear nothing but their noise and din. Some of them were my own voice, some of them were my own questions, some of them were my own cares, some of them were my very prayers. Others were the suggestions of the tempter and the voices of the world’s turmoil. Never before did there seem so many things to be done, to be said, to be thought; and in every direction I was pushed and pulled, and greeted with noisy acclamations of unspeakable unrest. It seemed necessary for me to listen to some of them, and to answer some of them; but God said, “Be still, and know that I am God.” Then came the conflict of thoughts for the morrow, and its duties and cares; but God said, “Be still.” And as I listened and slowly learned to obey, and shut my ears to every sound, I found after awhile that when the other voices ceased, or I ceased to hear them, there was a still, small voice in the depths of my being that began to speak with an inexpressible tenderness, power, and comfort. As I listened, it became to me the voice of prayer, and the voice of wisdom, and the voice of duty, and I did not need to think so hard, or pray so hard, or trust so hard, but that “still, small voice” of the Holy Spirit in my heart was God’s prayer in my secret soul, was God’s answer to all my questions, was God’s life and strength for soul and body, and became the substance of all knowledge, and all prayer, and all blessing; for it was the living God Himself as my life and my all."
Thursday, December 08, 2016
Silence in a Noisy Season: A Silence that Strengthens
Wednesday, December 07, 2016
Silence in a Noisy Season: A Restoring Silence
Tuesday, December 06, 2016
Silence in a Noisy Season: Silence Refreshes and Renews
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Brent's Books On Kindle

When it was released, Publishers Weekly said, "Those seeking a series of clever tips for cultivating spiritual growth overnight will not want to delve into this deceptively simple meditation on the Quaker custom of mindful seeing. A Friends minister and author of Holy Silence: The Gift of Quaker Spirituality, Bill describes his book as "a way of seeing our inner and outer lives with spiritual eyes and discovering the connectedness between inner and outer sight." Like a neighborly conversation across a kitchen table, this slender volume emphasizes the mundane details of daily life as they are enlightened by being attentive to the Spirit of God that Quakers believe dwells within each person."
While it's still available in limited quantities on-line and in bookstore, it has been declared out of print by the publisher. So I've been able to make Mind the Light available, as originally printed, as a Kindle book -- for the low price of $2.99.

Sacred Compass: The Way of Spiritual Discernment was called by Richard J. Foster "one of the finest books on discernment and divine guidance that I have seen in a very long time."
Also available is Awaken Your Senses: Exercises for Exploring the Wonder of God (with co-author Beth Booram). Parker J. Palmer says, "With Awaken Your Senses, Brent Bill and Beth Booram have given us a superb resource for seeking the God of life through sensuous experience, a way of knowing that has been sadly neglected--and too often held suspect--by the church. How did a faith based on the claim that 'the Word became flesh' become so divorced from bodily, incarnate knowledge? Here is a beautiful book that will help us reclaim our bodies, our senses and our relationship with God."

Coming soon is a new edition of David B. Updegraff: Quaker Holiness Preacher. So far this is the only modern biography of this radical Quaker preacher of the 19th century. 2013 will mark the 30th anniversary of the publication of this landmark work. The new Kindle version will be an expansion of the 1983 edition and will include research I have done since that edition was originally published.
Enjoy -- happy reading!
-- Brent
Friday, April 06, 2012
Soul Silence and Pounding Nails: A Good Friday Meditation
Silence, especially in life’s busyness, leads us through the whitewater of life to gentle pools of stillness and calm. 400 years of Quaker silence have pointed us back to the center within. Silence moves us from difficult self-examination to healing to relaxing in God’s presence. Interior silence takes us to a place where we are living St. Paul’s injunction to pray without ceasing, even when we are not consciously aware that we are doing so.
That happened to me on a recent Good Friday. I spent the day hammering the nails out of pieces of wood that made up the pallets that the outside walls of our new house had come on. Our home is made of timbers recycled from old factories and exterior walls constructed on jigs on the factory floor. These were then put on pallets and shipped on semis from New Hampshire to our Indiana home site. “The wood we use in the pallets is better than most builders use in their homes,” said one of the people building our house. “You’ll want to salvage as much of it as you can. Don’t let the framers burn it up.”
Quakers are strong on grace and redemption. If something can be saved and used again, it is. I hoped to see these used 2x4’s born-again as a woodshed or workshop. So, the sun blazed and I pounded nails out instead of in. A few yards away, four framers worked at pounding nails in, hanging the walls and roof panels. While I drove 16 commons out of 2x4s, they drove 10 and 12-inch spikes through 2x6 walls into 6” posts and beams with 3 pound sledges. The sound of hammers on nails rang through the Good Friday afternoon. That ringing was accompanied by the church bells from St. Thomas More Catholic Church just a couple of miles away, drifting on the spring breeze.
This symmetry with the holy day was not lost on me, even though Friends, being non-liturgical, don’t celebrate holy days or seasons. Still it was easy to recall other nails driven long ago – not through walls into posts, but through outstretched hands into rough wood. Even while carpenters yelled to each other, rough voices calling out measurements and grunting and cursing to set panels in place, I found silence in my soul. I was not sitting in a congregation listening to the last words of Jesus. Nor was I following the Stations of the Cross. But I was, in my soul, remembering, alongside those congregants. My arms grew weary of pounding and pulling nails. In, but at the same time apart from, the noise I pondered Jesus’ tiring journey that day. In spite of the noise, silence swathed my soul. Here I am, I thought, spending Good Friday in the company of carpenters. How fitting. I prayed for them. I prayed for me. I prayed for the world.
I heard a car pull up our long lane. It was my friend Aaron. A rabbi. My soul laughed – how right, how good. Carpenters and a rabbi on Good Friday. I thanked God for the silence of my soul that helped me see that day that was holy because God breathed life into it.
I was led into the holy that day, while hammering out nails and visiting with rabbis and framers. Arms weary, back bent from stacking reclaimed wood, it was a Good Friday.
adapted from Holy Silence: The Gift of Quaker Spirituality