THE SILENCE OF GOD
Have you ever gone through a time when it seemed you
couldn’t hear God – and couldn’t make yourself heard by Him? Why do these “dark
nights of the soul” happen? What can you do about them?
OUR FIRST TERM as missionaries in
We had everything we needed
to return, except our French temporary resident visas. The Lord stepped in and
kept our visas from arriving, and we had to cancel our airline reservations. The
ensuing days, which turned into weeks and finally into months were filled with
frustration as we waited for the French diplomatic courier to make his weekly
run, only to be told week after week that our visas were not in that pouch.
Those were days spent
waiting, looking for reasons, for answers, for clear guidance from God. The
frustration of not being able to do anything to hurry the French Foreign
Ministry was coupled with the frustration of trying to find something
profitable to fill the time, which still could be dropped at once as soon as we
were able to leave.
But as I look back, I’d
have to say that in all honesty the most difficult part was not the waiting,
but the silence of God while we waited.
Yes, the silence of God.
I’m not sure that I ever
acknowledged it in so many words – at least during the day. It was at night
that the silence weighed so heavily. I would lie awake at night with questions,
thinking about my questions and about lying awake.
But it seemed God was
somewhere else. To say He is omnipresent, He is everywhere, sounded hollow: He
most certainly was not there –
where I could hear, sense, or feel Him.
I think my wife shared much
the same feelings I had, but we didn’t talk about it in this way. After all, we
were missionaries, therefore spiritual. And how could I, as spiritual leader
of the family, admit I wasn’t experiencing the presence of God?
Such an admission would
fall on evangelical ears as an open confession of sin. For we all know the
doctrine that sin breaks our fellowship with God, but confession restores it. I
guess unconsciously I dreaded opening myself to Job’s
comforters. Obviously I was in sin and God was withholding the visas until I
got my life straightened out. And as for the “silence of God,” it was really
the “stubbornness of
I did examine my life at
that time, and soberly concluded that there was no known unconfessed sin which
was responsible for the experience.
EVERY DAY ISN’T SWEETER
At that time I had never
heard anyone talk about experiencing the feeling that God was silent. But as I
read the Bible – especially the Psalms – I am convinced that it is not uncommon
for believers to pass through such experiences.
And I’m equally convinced
that many who will read this have experienced the silence of God – or are
experiencing it right now. You may not have called it that, but if you’re
honest you will identify with what I’m describing.
The Bible is totally
honest, but we have created a false standard in our evangelical circles that
keeps us from being so. Afraid to admit what we see as a failure, we smile and
sing, “Every day with Jesus is sweeter than the day before,” and all the while
we’re empty, groping, bewildered.
In the last scene of the
last act of King Lear, after
death, madness, and the storm have swallowed the noble as well as the evil
characters, Shakespeare has a broken but surviving Edgar bring down the final
curtain with these words: “The weight of this sad time we must obey / Speak
what we feel, not what we ought to say.”
We would probably all he
healthier mentally if we made it a habit to speak what we feel, not what we
think we ought to say, in sad times, in hard times, in times of heartbreaking
grief or stomach-wrenching fear, as well as in times of bubbling joy and richly
satisfying peace. We’ve fallen out of the habit of truthfulness and are mired
in the fear of other Christians’ reactions. Afraid of saying something we ought
not to say, we skirt truthful acknowledgement of our deep feelings when we
speak what we think we ought to say.
But in Psa. 13 – and in a
good many others as well – David candidly revealed his deepest feelings.
David, the man after God’s own heart, in a piece of poetry inspired by the Holy
Spirit Himself, admits his own experience of the silence of God.
BE HONEST WITH
FEELINGS
Just here, I think, is
where we must begin in understanding, enduring, and surmounting this experience
in our own lives. We need to confront and acknowledge our feelings honestly.
Psychologists and
counselors tell us that unacknowledged and therefore unresolved feelings lie
at the heart of a vast array of behavioral problems, even among Christians. But
the scriptural examples teach us to confront honestly how we feel. We see
Elijah crushed in self-pity and despair. We hear Jonah lash out in anger at
God. Habakkuk expresses impatience, Jeremiah grieves over his city, and
Hosea’s heart breaks over his wife’s unfaithfulness.
Acknowledging how we feel,
then, is not wrong. It is the place to start.
“But,” you might object,
“what if I am bitter, jealous, angry with God?” Those
may he unhelpful feelings leading to wrong behavior, but until were willing to
admit we feel them, we cannot deal with them and we run the risk that suppressing
those feelings will do even more damage, possibly resulting in mental and
behavioral dysfunctions.
So the first step in
dealing with the experience of the silence of God is to acknowledge it. This
David does in Psa. 13:1, 2:
The four-time repeated cry,
“How long?” shows us the depth of David’s feelings. It seemed God had forgotten
– abandoned – him. The experience of God’s presence was far from David’s life.
He lay in bed with only his thoughts to wrestle with, and the lack of spiritual
victory in his life led David to believe, whether literally or figuratively,
that his enemy gloated in his defeat.
This is the experience of
God’s silence. Not the self-imposed exile of unconfessed sin. Not simply the
feeling of lack of guidance; not even the experience of waiting months or even
years before seeing a specific prayer answered. No, this is the feeling that
God is totally absent from all areas of your life. Your prayers bounce off the
ceiling and fall impotently on the floor. You force yourself to read the
Bible, but it is about as meaningful and relevant as a three-month-old issue
of Newsweek in the
doctor’s waiting room. Christian music seems like insipid platitudes;
Christian books like so much pabulum, and Christian
fellowship about as helpful as a convention of mannequins.
It feels better during the
day, although it seems as though a dusty pall has settled over everything,
dulling colors and dimming the sun. At night, wrestling with your thoughts,
the silence of God is so real it aches and sleep comes hard. It feels like a
vast sorrow with no cause, a deep fear of an unknown threat. And all we can do
is cry, “How long?”
CS. Lewis
married late in life, and after just a couple of years his wife Joy died of
cancer. Her death plunged Lewis deep into grief, and during those days he kept
a brutally honest record of his thoughts and feelings. That journal, published
under the title A Grief Observed, records
Lewis’ experience of the silence of God:
Meanwhile, where is God? This is one of
the most disquieting symptoms. When you are happy, so happy that you have no
sense of needing Him, so happy that you are tempted to feel His claims upon you
as an interruption, if you remember yourself and turn to Him with gratitude
and praise, you will be – or so it feels – welcomed with open arms. But go to
Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you
find? A door slammed in your face, and sound of bolting and double-bolting on the
inside. After that, silence. … Why is He so present a commander in our time of
prosperity and so very absent a help in time of trouble?
This is the same question
reflected in the title of Philip Yancey’s excellent book, Where is God
When if Hurts? The experience
of the silence of God is not unique to us. Others – giants of the faith – have
stood here before us. And so the first step to take in dealing with the
experience is to acknowledge it.
KEEP ON PRAYING
In verses 3 and 4 we see
David making a specific request to God:
Look on me and answer, O LORD my God.
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death: my enemy will say, “I have
overcome him,” and my foes will rejoice when I fall.
“Look on me, answer me,” he
pleads. In this idiom David asks that God take care of him, and do it in such a
way that David can see evidence of that care. David offers two reasons for his
request:
First, he is so depressed
in the silence that he feels sick unto death. Second, David fears his enemy’s
exultant claims of victory, the dreaded sound, “I told you so!”
David’s prayer – look on me
and answer – is not very specific as prayers go. But in it we can see a second
phase of response to the situation. If the first thing we must do to work
through the experience of the silence of God is to admit it honestly, the
second thing is to keep on praying. Even when it seems futile, even when it
seems our prayers hang limp in the stale air around us, never coming close to
heaven, even then we must go on, continue to pray. Pray without ceasing, Paul
said, not just when you feel like it (1
Thes.
We must keep asking God to
make Himself real in our experience, to meet us in our
need. No need for oratorical excellence in this prayer – anguished honesty is
more eloquent. What we need is to feel God Himself really present in our lives,
not some sanitized Sunday-school-booklet portrait of Him. As Frederick
Buechner says in his excellent book Telling the Truth, “It is out of the absence of God
that God makes Himself present. …God himself does not
give answers. He gives Himself.”3 And so even in the awful silence,
we must continue to pray.
REASSERT FAITH
The last two verses of the
Psalm take us one step further. In these verses David reasserts his faith:
But I trust in your unfailing love; my
heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good
to me.
If the first two stanzas of
the Psalm are spoken through clenched teeth and salty tears, in this final stanza
the shadow of a smile flickers. Silence isn’t yet turned to symphony; the joy
of full fellowship with God isn’t yet restored. But in reasserting his faith,
David finds the strength to get up and face just one more day.
David’s expression of faith
rests on two pillars: God’s unfailing love, and
David’s past experience of God’s goodness. He knows God’s love is loyal,
always faithful. He would nod agreement to Paul’s conclusion that nothing in
all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ
Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8:39).
And he can remember many
times in the past when the goodness of God was overwhelmingly real. And so
David proclaims his joy in God’s salvation – an expression that I believe
refers to the deliverance God will yet bring to David. He knows the silence of
God won’t last forever, and so answers his own question of verse one. God will
deliver him because He loves him and has been good to him in the past. Based on
this faith, David will yet sing to the Lord. Not just now, maybe, but someday.
Silence will be turned to song.
LOOK TO A HIDDEN REALITY
Now this might easily be
dismissed as a shallow appeal to the power of positive thinking. It might be,
that is, if it were not true.
Just because David feels
abandoned does not mean God is not really there. Just because he cannot hear
God’s voice does not mean he will never hear it again, or that he is not even
now speaking, or that help is not already on the way. It may be that
concentrating on statements of trust in God’s love and goodness is the power of
positive thinking, but it will keep us from surrendering to the power of
negative thinking.
In the last stanza of Psa.
13, then, on the basis of his faith, David asserts that what he feels, real
though those feelings are to him, is not really the way things are. And we must
say the same. Yes, we must confront and acknowledge our feelings. But then we
must lay those feelings alongside reality and see how they measure up. You see,
if you have made a faith commitment to God, you have faith in His love and have
seen His goodness to you in the past. And so in spite of how you feel, you know
God will bring deliverance.
Thinking back on my
experience of God’s silence while waiting for those visas, I believe the
feelings lasted eight to ten weeks. I went that long living, so it felt, in a
vacuum. I came to church, smiled, even preached. But
one day my wife and I left the children with some friends and drove up in the
mountains to talk and pray. And when we returned, God had spoken. I can’t
really say He broke His silence; rather, He broke into in my silence. By
opening our eyes to certain, particular needs of our own family, God made it
quite clear that we should not return to
Maybe I had not been ready
to hear that word two months earlier. Certainly it brought some disappointments
and regrets. We had worked hard learning the language and the culture, and now
would not use those skills. We had made plans that now we would never see
fulfilled. We had developed relationships that now we could never continue. But
in that time, God’s grace and peace were real. He was again there for me. And out of the
experience we gained a deeper understanding of God.
Right now are you perhaps
feeling the silence of God in your life? You might be in circumstances where
you deeply need God, but just can’t seem to feel Him in your life. Perhaps
you’ve lost a job, or lost a loved one through death. Perhaps the anguish has
been brought on by a total inability to communicate with your spouse, children (or spiritual leader). It might be
caused by physical pain, or doubts, or unjustified personal attacks. And just
when you need God the most, He seems most absent from your life.
Don’t yield to despair.
Others have been there before you. You need not let that feeling of abandonment
lead you down the wrong path. You could, you see, try one of many ways of
covering up for the silence of God in our lives. You could try to mask the
silence through a frantic pace at work, or a whirlwind social schedule, as if
being active and surrounded by people can fill the void left by the absence of
God. You might hide behind overeating, or perhaps over-exercising. You could
seek escape through drinking or drugs, or the enticing finality of the escape
offered in a handful of pills.
But that doesn’t have to be
your pathway. Keep praying. Even if you feel it’s doing no good, keep it up.
And then in faith reflect on God’s unfailing love and all the ways that His
goodness has enriched your life in the past. Have confidence based on that
faith that He will bring deliverance to you. Remember, it’s out of God’s
absence that God makes Himself present.
Wait patiently in faith for
that new, deeper experience of God Himself that will be yours when the silence
is broken. David’s pathway led not to despair, but back to joy and song. Yours
can, too.
Garrett J. DeWeese
Discipleship Journal, Issue 27, 1985,
pp. 13-16.