When God Feels Silent, Keep Talking
Some of the time, you can lay your matter at the feet of the Lord, and that is all there is to it. A word presents itself, you offer it up, and you have the feeling He has been on the other end of it.
Other days are not like that.
You try to pray and find a void. The room is quiet. You look for an answer and are met with one: silence.
It stings, if we are honest.
We are used to recounting how prayer is answered. We have the tales of a healing, a door that opens, a way made, and a tie mended.
What of the rest?
The illness that will not let go?
The marriage that could not be put back together?
The road ahead that is still in the dark?
We have a habit of sweeping those under the rug. We put on a face and make the claim, “God is good.” And we mean it.
But there is often a measure of confusion or frustration below the surface.
The Bible does not require us to perform our composure.
David did not.
*“How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me?”*
Psalm 13:1, NKJV
It is unvarnished. You can tell when a man has had enough of holding in.
And God saw fit to include it.
He did not sand down David’s pain to make it palatable. He left the hard questions as they were.
Job argued from his grief. Jeremiah had his say. Habakkuk called God out. On the cross, even Jesus cried,
*“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”*
Matthew 27:46, NKJV
Do not be under the impression that a difficult season in prayer is a sign of weak faith.
When life has run out of easy answers, the very act of wrestling is where faith is made.
I would suggest we make a mistake in this: we hear no word from God and assume He has left the building.
Silence is not an absence.
One can be in a room with a friend, without a word being exchanged, and still be in each other’s company.
There are times when a parent can be with a grieving child and have no words to put it right.
Love is what remains, even in the hush of it.
Easier to put into words than to take in when one is in search of an answer.
We are after a reason. We want some sort of plan, and we’d prefer to have it come morning.
But for the most part, we only get to see as far as the next step.
Not ten down the road.
Just one.
And that can be a trial.
One might have told God this so often as to feel a touch foolish about it.
“Lord, I’ve been over this with You.”
So be it. Ask all the same.
It has nothing to do with Him not remembering or you having to get the words just so. It is simply the way to remain where He is.
Saying “I’m at my end” is acceptable.
Or “I don’t see it.”
Or, “I am mad.”
Even if it is just, “Help.”
That is enough.
I have been in places where a proper prayer was out of the question. No eloquence, no boldness.
Just the name of Jesus.
Once in a while, barely a thought.
But it was prayer.
The issue at hand did not always go away. What I was left with was the knowledge I was not in it by myself.
Some of us will tell you that is what is important.
And then there is the pain that has a way of returning.
You are along for a while, and then something – a date on the calendar, a phone call, a throwaway line – and it is all in the room with you again.
The old hurt.
The fear.
No need to be apologetic to God for rehashing the same thing.
He is well aware of it. You do not go to God in prayer to put in a report with some new data. You go to be where you are no longer in hiding from Him.
Look at Jesus in Gethsemane, or Paul and his thorn in the flesh. The psalmists made the same pleas over and over. There is a tendency to think that if you have to say it twice, your faith is lacking. In some cases, it is just you making a choice for God on what little strength is left.
We hear it all the time: “God is working behind the scenes.” I get why that can grate on a person in the middle of a hard time. It can come off as a cop-out, a way to put a period on the subject. I would not be one to say it and make myself scarce.
Yet I am of the mind that God is at work even when we have no view of it. A seed has to be in the dark to grow. Roots put down before there is any sign of them on top. A hold-up might be for your own good, or to ready you for something, or to make a difference in another’s life. Or you may never make head or tail of it. We do not like to be told that.
The Christian walk does not offer an answer to every kind of loss. What it does is make sure loss is not the end of the story. The resurrection is proof of that. Friday was done. Saturday had nothing to offer. Then Sunday.
Do not confuse faith with a sense of certainty; we put those in the same box too much. Faith is not always solid ground. At times it is just a matter of not walking out.
It is the kind of day you open your Bible and feel nothing. You pray into a void. You put in an appearance at church when you would rather be in bed. And you tell Jesus, “I don’t see it, but I am here.” Not exactly a show of force, but I would call it courage.
Anyone can laud God when things go as planned. It is another thing to stand with Him in the letdown. It is more of a quiet, arduous affair. And you should not have to be in it by yourself.
Faith can run out of steam without being gone for good. Let someone else be the one to hold onto hope for a change. Put in a word with a friend or your pastor. No need to lay it all out for the world, but do not put up a wall. Being on your own only makes the quiet seem worse.
You can let the silence get to you when you are by yourself.
What you need is some kind of company: a phone call at the right moment, something made from scratch for dinner, or someone who has the presence of mind to just be there with you without any agenda. It doesn’t have to be one of those uplifting stories. More often it is as straightforward as “I don’t know what to do with this,” and hearing back, “I’m here.”
It is only to be expected that you might want to close off if it feels like God has been in the other room. We all put up a wall after we’ve been stung. But don’t let the quiet turn into a divide.
Be open with Him. Put it on the table—where you were let down, what’s on your mind, or where your anger is at. He won’t be put off by candor. There is more value in a blunt prayer than a polite one.
When you have nothing left to give, don’t overcomplicate it. A few words from the Psalms, a line of prayer, or even just a murmur of His name is enough.
Faith does not have to be a show. On some days, it is as simple as being in the room and saying, “Jesus, I’m here.”
Daniel J. Grace