Silence

Two days ago I sat lakeside.

Usually a cacophony of sounds fill the air - birds, cicadas, kids, boat paddles cutting the surface of the water.

But this time, everything was still.

The water was like glass...not a ripple crossed the surface.

Although it was dusk, the mosquitoes weren't even on the hunt.

And the silence was deafening.

As I sat and watched and listened, I began to see the slightest of movements.

A turtle's head broke the surface of the water and disappeared.

There was a splash as a fish jumped out of the water in pursuit of an insect dinner.

In the distance, the faint but familiar noise of cicadas.

Had I left a moment sooner, I might have gone away believing nothing was going on...that everything was unnaturally and completely still.

My prayer life can be like that. Maybe yours too?

I come to God with a certain level of expectation, but everything is different.

God seems silent.

It feels...strange, unfamiliar, unsettling.

When I don't take the time to sit and listen for more than a few minutes, it's easy to walk away  convinced God isn't there.

But that's not how God operates.

His word says He'll never leave or forsake us.  While we may not see or hear Him straight away, He's always there.

Sometimes the silence lasts just a day or two.  Sometimes it's longer.  But we can't lose heart.

Knowing He's true to His promises, we need to take the time to watch and wait.  When we're patient, when we continue to seek despite the outward appearance of circumstances, that's when we notice that He is moving...just below the surface.

And when we quiet our voice and take a break from lamenting, we can hear Him. 

Do you have a good friend? Are you able to sit side by side in silence and not feel awkward? When you know someone well, there's not a constant need to fill the gaps with idle conversation. Friendship with God can be like that too.

Sometimes, silence is necessary.  Sometimes, silence is healing.  Sometimes, when silence is shared, it deepens the relationship.

Just 24 hours later, everything was 'back to normal' at the lake.

It was the same bench, the same water, the same trees, the same me...but the level of activity was high from the moment I arrived.

Was one situation better than the other?  I'd say no, because the temporary silence taught a valid and necessary lesson.  God is always with us, always on the move...just because we can't see, hear or feel him for a time doesn't mean it's not so.