When you feel like God is silent …

Hi. It’s me. This isn’t really a post this is just me saying hi, and I’ve had something on my heart this week. All week I’ve had this sense that we need hope.

We all need hope. You, your days are long and the challenges are real and you’re looking for real answers and real solutions and and the stuff you’re up against isn’t just fluff. Can I just tell you my inbox is full this week with precious notes from you — one of you in Indonesia has a husband on the brink with dengue fever, one of you in North Carolina is about ready to call it quits with a job that’s sucking you dry. One of you is facing a scary diagnosis, one of you just plain has too much to do. You’re all in need … and I am too. And sometimes when we pray, all we hear is silence.

Jesus had that happen too. 

Jesus cried out 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 you or that you 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. Heaven was iron. There were no responses. And yet, it passed. That season was for nine months, and then some of the most glorious blessings followed.

The other season was 5 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.

Richard 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 realize that we cannot manipulate 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. Strangely enough, the waiting times work in us perseverance, or patience, and this patience produces in us …

Hope.

Are you waiting right now? Is everything silent? Are you knocking on the door but no one’s answering? God is faithful and the silence will not last forever. I pray for strength today to trust Him and hold onto hope. More on this (and a fun story) tomorrow  …

Thanks for reading.

*Portland-Area readers: Tonight 1/30 from 6:30-8pm I’m doing a Faithfully Frugal workshop at a local church. It’s free and I’d love to see you there. More info here!