No words came this week. Not because I didn’t ask the Lord for them, because I did. It just wasn’t happening. The ticker tape of scriptures didn’t sail across my mind’s screen as usual. Fresh breath of the Spirit to back them up just wasn’t there. Only silence.
Days passed, and still nothing. My sense of well-being began to peter out as pressure to produce grew. My heart became increasingly saddened, desperate to hear something—anything. Surely the Lord has some kind of encouragement to pass along. After all, our world is in such chaos; people are hurting. Now is not the time for me or the church to dummy up.
But guilt is a ruthless motivator. So is fear. They sabotage any aspirations to reach out at all.
So, instead, I’ve embraced the silence and the ache of longing it incites. I’ve just been this week—not done. Knowing that there is something sacred about God’s silence if I’ll allow Him to delve deeper than mere words ever could.
In the Silence
by Jason Upton
Tired of telling You, You have me
When I know You really don’t
Tired of telling You I’ll follow
When I know I really won’t
Cause I’d rather stand here speechless
With no great words to say
If my silence is more truthful
And my ears can hear how to walk in Your ways
In the silence
You are speaking
In the quiet I can feel the fire
And it’s burning, burning deeply
Burning all is all that You desire
To be silent . . . in me
Oh Jesus, can You hear me?
My soul is screaming out
And my broken will cries teach me
What Your Kingdom’s all about
Unite my heart to fear You
To fear Your holy name
And create a life of worship
In the spirit and truth of Your loving ways
In the silence
You are speaking
In the quiet, I can feel its fire
And it’s burning, burning deeply
Burning all is all that You desire
To be silent . . . in me.