Silent Sovereignty
Hearing Nothing, Trusting Everything
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How long, Lord? Will you hide yourself forever? How long will your wrath burn like fire? Remember how fleeting is my life. For what futility you have created all humanity! Who can live and not see death, or who can escape the power of the grave? Lord, where is your former great love, which in your faithfulness you swore to David? Remember, Lord, how your servant has been mocked, how I bear in my heart the taunts of all the nations, the taunts with which your enemies, Lord, have mocked, with which they have mocked every step of your anointed one. (Psalm 89:46 – 51)
In every believer's life, there inevitably comes a moment when the sweetness of God's voice gives way to silence, and His presence, once tangible, warm, and comforting, feels distant, elusive, even absent. I've known this season myself, a time of confusion and pain when prayers seem to bounce off ceilings, and Scripture, once vibrant with promises, becomes muted by unanswered questions. It is the paradoxical place where faith is tested most profoundly, not in the clarity of divine direction, but in the murky quiet of waiting.
The Psalmist captures this struggle vividly in Psalm 89, echoing the heart's most honest cries: "How long, Lord? Will you hide yourself forever?" These words resonate deeply because we've whispered similar ones ourselves, often after experiencing moments of spiritual abundance. We remember vividly when God spoke promises into our hearts, when the Spirit moved unmistakably, when our paths seemed clear. Yet now, like the Psalmist, we find ourselves wrestling with divine silence, wondering if we have somehow missed God’s voice or misunderstood His intentions.
These seasons of silence are not merely interruptions in our journey; they are purposeful pauses designed by God to deepen our trust beyond what our senses can discern. In them, He invites us to cling not merely to the memory of past words but to the unwavering character behind those words. Through silence, God quietly yet powerfully transforms our faith from reliance on constant reassurance into a steadfast trust anchored in who He is, even when His voice is quiet.
Learning to Live in God’s Silence
To endure divine silence is one thing, to live faithfully within it is another. If we are to walk with God beyond the mountaintop moments, past the revivals, the breakthroughs, the goosebumps of early encounters, we must learn the art of stillness as God commanded in Psalm 10: “Be still and know that I am God.” We must come to see that silence is not God’s absence but often His strategy. It is not a punishment but a preparation and what feels like abandonment is often the stage upon which God teaches us to walk by faith and not by sight.
The enemy is loud in these moments, quick to fill the void with accusations and false conclusions: You’ve messed up. God is done with you. You missed your moment. But those are lies drawn from the pit. Because what if, instead of being disqualified, you are being refined? What if the silence is not rejection but readiness?
Jesus, our model, spent the majority of His earthly life in obscurity with no crowds, miracles or platform. Just quiet growth, carpentry and character, formation and favor. Thirty years of silence before three years of public ministry, if the Son of God was not exempt from seasons of hiddenness, why should we be?
Like the Psalmist, we are often tempted to interpret God's silence through the lens of our feelings or circumstances. We misread delay as denial and silence as abandonment. But God’s covenant was never at risk. His love never waned. His plans were never threatened. The Psalmist may have felt forgotten, but Israel was being forged and so are we.
God does some of His deepest work in the dark, roots grow in silence, diamonds form in pressure and faith, the kind that endures storms and holds fast to invisible promises, is born not in the noise of certainty but in the quiet of trust. The question is not whether God is still working, He is. The question is: Will we still believe when we cannot hear Him? Will we stay when the heavens go quiet? Will we grow in favor, like Jesus did, even in the hidden years? Seasons of silence are not setbacks, they are ordained.
Appointed Timing
One of the most difficult tensions we will ever navigate as believers is the space between promise and fulfillment. It’s that uncomfortable middle ground where the Word has been spoken, the vision has been seen, the seed has been planted, but the soil is quiet, and the heavens feel still. Habakkuk 2:3 names this tension perfectly: "Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay." The vision is true, the promise is intact but there is an appointed time, and it is not ours to determine.
What appears delayed in our eyes is perfectly on schedule in God's. He does not operate according to the ticking of our clocks or the urgency of our calendars. When God speaks, His Word is settled, He does not stutter and does not second-guess. His promises are not on trial, they are already signed, sealed, and awaiting divine release. Silence, then, does not mean uncertainty, it simply means that the time is not yet and when the time is right, not even the gates of hell can hold back what God has ordained.
Joseph's life is a masterclass in this reality. He received a divine dream in his youth, a glimpse of glory, leadership, and divine favor. But after that? Silence. He was sold, slandered, imprisoned, and forgotten. No fresh dreams and no angelic reminders, just the grind of faithfulness in the dark. But at the appointed time, the same God who had whispered destiny raised him to rule. Joseph, now able to look back, would say to his brothers, “God sent me ahead of you.” Not man, not fate, not coincidence but God. Every moment of silence had been sovereign.
So, if you find yourself in a season where nothing is speaking, remember this: God already has. His Word is not vapor; it is fire, and it will not return void. We wait not as orphans abandoned by a distracted Father, but as sons and daughters trusting in a faithful King. In this waiting, we rest, not in what we feel, but in what He said.
Stillness, Not Silence
Notwithstanding everything said so far, the gospel truth is this: for those who are in Christ, there is no such thing as a true season of silence. Because God, eternal, unchanging, and always present, is never mute. The heavens may feel closed, our prayers may feel unanswered, but the Word of God remains open, alive, and speaking. Sixty-six books and thirty-one thousand verses, each one is dripping with breath, soaked in power, pregnant with revelation. Silence, then, is often not a lack of speech, it’s a lack of perception.
We say we can’t hear Him, but the pages of Scripture are still whispering promises, roaring truths, and singing hope. Sometimes we look for new words and miss the now Word sitting unopened on our nightstands. God may not always speak in thunderclaps or prophetic dreams, but He has already spoken in Christ, and He continues to speak through His Word. Hebrews tells us that the Word of God is living and active, not passive or past tense. So, if God seems silent, it may be because we’ve forgotten how to listen where He’s already spoken.
When we long for a fresh word, let us not bypass the final Word that is Jesus, the fullness of God’s revelation. Every syllable of Scripture points to Him, and through Him we see that silence is not the absence of God’s presence, but the invitation to press deeper into it. So while the skies may seem still, and the feelings may be faint, the Word still speaks and for those who incline their ears, they’ll find that even in stillness, heaven is declaring the glory of God.
Faith in Stillness
If faith is indeed “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1), then a period of stillness—where sight fails and feelings falter—is not a setback but an invitation. It is the proving ground of faith. For what is belief if not trust in a God we cannot always trace?
A season of stillness is not spiritual inactivity; it is the crucible where belief is refined into conviction. When God appears quiet, and yet we keep praying, when the heavens seem still, and yet we keep worshiping, when no doors open, and yet we still obey. That is faith, not in theory, but in motion. It is to say, “I trust You not because I see the outcome, but because I know the One who authored the promise.”
In the stillness, our faith either crumbles or deepens and God, in His wisdom, uses the silence not to confuse us, but to cleanse us of every crutch that is not Him. In that place, the Word becomes more than ink, it becomes oxygen, prayer becomes more than petition, it becomes our lifeline and God’s presence, even if faint, becomes enough.
So, if you find yourself in the quiet, do not panic. You are not being ignored; you are being strengthened. The silence is not God’s absence, it is His classroom and your faith, though tested, will come out as gold. Hold fast, He is still speaking, and His Word will not fail.
Prayer for Seasons of Stillness
Father,
In every quiet season where Your voice feels distant, my heart longs for clarity, yet I choose to trust You. Though everything in me wants to rush ahead, I surrender to Your timing, knowing that what You’ve promised will not fail.
Teach me to walk by faith, even when I cannot see. Help me believe that stillness is not emptiness, but preparation and sacred time where You are refining me and shaping me for what’s to come.
Give me the patience of those who waited well, who grew in wisdom and favor even when the spotlight faded. Remind me that You are never truly silent, but Your Word is alive, and Your presence is near.
Strengthen my confidence in You, Lord. When answers are delayed and doors remain closed, let my faith hold firm. I trust that You hear me, and that You are working, even now.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
this is amazing
Timely