And Then Silence

As I looked over this blog I realized I hadn’t posted anything in over two weeks. It made me pause, because I have a stack of “ideas” to explore, and usually God leads me to an area to reflect. Even though I’ve been busy these past couple of weeks, I really couldn’t use it as an excuse, because, honestly, I’m always busy it seems. So why haven’t I written? Then I realized that I had not received any prompting leading me to a specific topic. God has been silent.

So as I pondered this, I realized this wasn’t a bad thing, God has not left me. I even still feel His presence in my life. This has been an opportunity to strengthen my faith. I’ve spent a good bit of time asking how, where, when, and what does it look like questions to God. So far I haven’t received answers. My weekly Bible Study has been talking about being in the wilderness, like the Israelites leaving Egypt and wandering in the dessert. I am at a transition point in my life. We’ve joined a new church and I’m praying over whether or not my sabbatical from leading women’s Bible study groups is coming to an end, and if so, what will that look like. So far God has been silent and this has extended to my writing as well.

I realized that if I believe (and I do) that God is still there, then He will speak when He is ready and in His time. I also think my resolve to continue writing is being tested. Will I seek out things to write about? Will I continue to declare His praises even when there is silence? Since this blog flows from things I’m dealing with, I decided maybe I should write about the silence. Here is where my reflecting has led.

First it has helped me clarify the difference in between being lost in a desert of disobedience and separation from God, and being in a time of wandering, waiting for God to reveal the next step. It is refining my patience and building my faith as I continue to learn to wait. I can look back on past times of waiting and know that God has perfect timing.

Additionally, as I lay in bed winding down from the day, I realized that in the silence I could find comfort and peace and rest. I am at a place where I can simply abide and be still. When Alex was a baby I would hold and rock him to comfort him when he was fussy in the middle of the night. I sensed God doing the same thing for me. I remembered the softness of the night, the warmth of the embrace, the occasion stoke on the head, and the same words I would whisper into my child’s ear, “Its ok, I’m right here.”, and then, silence.