Have you ever called out to someone and heard nothing in return? That moment when your words seem to fade away unanswered?
Sometimes our prayers feel that way. Words rising up, disappearing into a quiet sky. No answer. No sign. Nothing to tell us we've been heard.
Psalm 13:1-2 captures this feeling perfectly: "How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart?"
David, a man who walked closely with God, still felt this absence. His words weren't polished—they were raw with longing, honest about his struggle to sense God's presence.
I've stood in that place too. Praying words that seemed to hit the ceiling and fall back down. Listening for a voice and hearing only my own thoughts. Looking for signs and finding ordinary days that held no special message.
Those silent times can shake us. We wonder if we're doing something wrong, if we've somehow moved beyond God's reach. We question our prayers, as if the right words might finally make heaven respond.
But what if silence isn't absence? What if it's an invitation to listen differently?
In 1 Kings 19, Elijah expected to find God in dramatic displays—the wind, the earthquake, the fire. But God wasn't in any of those. Instead, He came in "a gentle whisper," so subtle that it required complete attention.
Sometimes God's voice doesn't compete with the noise around us. His presence isn't announced with fanfare but felt in subtle shifts—a calm that makes no logical sense, strength appearing right when ours is gone, clarity emerging from confusion.
The silence that feels like distance might actually be creating room for a different kind of connection—one less about words and more about presence.
Think about someone you've known for many years. There are moments when words aren't necessary, when understanding passes between you in a glance, in comfortable quiet.
Perhaps God's silence is teaching us to recognize Him not just in dramatic answers but in the steady pulse of His faithfulness. In promises kept. In guidance that becomes clear only looking back. In the comfort that arrives when we need it most.
If you're walking through a silent time right now, take heart. Others have walked this path before you. They've called out and waited. They've questioned and wondered. And they found that silence wasn't abandonment.
God's silence doesn't mean He's gone. Sometimes it means He's working in ways we can't yet see, preparing answers more complete than we've thought to ask for.
Even in silence, His love speaks. Even in waiting, His purpose moves forward. Even when answers seem distant, He remains closer than your next breath.