When you feel like God is silent …

{Thoughts from Richard Foster’s book on Prayer.}

There is a kind of prayer we don’t often wish to pray. Richard Foster calls it, “The Prayer of the Forsaken.”

It is the kind of prayer that Jesus offered on the cross, “My God, My God, why has thou forsaken me?”

Knowing Christ prayed these words reminds us of this: A season of aloneness, of silence, of nothingness, are not necessarily because God is displeased with me or that I have committed some horrendous offense against heaven. In fact, the two times I have keenly experienced this have been after making significant decisions to deny myself and follow Jesus. One such experience was in San Jose. That was by far the darkest night of my soul, to use Saint John’s language. Heaven was iron. There were no responses. And yet, it does pass. That season was for nine months, and then some of the most glorious blessings followed.

The other season was 4 1/2 years ago, when we’d moved in with my parents and I was coming apart at the seams. Nothing seemed to offer any solace and there seemed no good outcome to our circumstance. That too passed.

Foster calls those times “The Purifying Silence.” Though we often cannot tell, even afterward, exactly what God’s reasons were for His prolonged silence, we can often see a spiritual growth afterward that is unrecognizable in the middle of the storm. The further we get from the incident, the more clear it is.

What is beautiful about these seasons is that we truly realize that we cannot manage God. As Foster says,

“God refused to jump when I said, “Jump!” Neither by theological acumen nor by religious technique could I conquer God. God was, in fact, to conquer me” (p22).

The beauty of unanswered prayer, and of silence, and even of suffering is that we cannot control or manipulate God. And though our wicked hearts can want to at times, there is such a greater, more profoundly abiding peace when we recognize our true place in HIS plans and HIS purposes.

Lastly, I loved Foster’s discussion of the “Prayer of Complaint.” As he says,

“This form of prayer has largely been lost in our modern, sanitized religion, but the Bible abounds in it … The ancient singers (in the psalms) really know how to complain” (p.23).

This really struck me. I seldom complain in my prayers but often complain in my heart! How backwards is that? If I had a problem with Jeff (not even something he’d done wrong but just a problem), and I talked to everyone else about it (and myself) but not him, how ridiculous is that? But we do that with God.

He would rather have honest complaining lovers than pious, proud, hypocritical religious people.

My conclusion through all this is that I purpose to be honest with God and to wait patiently on God. When He is silent, He is still God. I can complain and pour out my heart and draw near to Him, but understand that He is in no obligation to respond to my beck and call. When He sees fit, in His infinite love and abounding wisdom, He will hear my call and come near. He’s promised He will.

{Revisiting these thoughts from a few years back.  Thanks for reading.}