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Psalm 13:1 "How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?"

Think

There’s a kind of silence that feels sacred—like the quiet of a sunrise or the stillness right after snowfall. But then there’s the silence that feels crushing. The kind that follows a prayer you’ve prayed for months without an answer. The kind that stretches through a decision you desperately need guidance for. The kind that lingers in worship when everyone else seems to be feeling something—but you just feel… nothing.

Spiritual silence is one of the most disorienting parts of the Christian life. Not because we don’t believe God is real, but because we wonder if he’s still close. We start to question: “Did I do something wrong? Am I being punished? Why isn’t he speaking like he used to?”

David, the man after God’s own heart, knew this ache well. Psalm 13 opens like a journal entry soaked in frustration. “How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?” That line alone gives permission to bring our raw emotions into the presence of God. David isn’t punished for asking the question—his words are preserved in Scripture. That tells us something important: God isn’t afraid of our honesty. In fact, he invites it.

But here’s what’s equally important: David doesn’t stop with the question. The same Psalm that begins with silence ends with, “But I trust in your unfailing love.” That shift doesn’t come because the situation changed—it comes because David remembered who God is, even when he couldn’t hear what God was doing.

Sometimes God is silent not because he’s distant, but because he’s doing something deeper. Silence in Scripture is often a setup for something significant. Before God spoke creation into being, there was darkness and void. Before Jesus began his ministry, he spent forty days in the wilderness—quiet, isolated, tempted. Even between the Old and New Testaments, there were 400 years of prophetic silence… and then a baby cried in Bethlehem.

Spiritual silence isn’t God abandoning you—it’s often God maturing you. Because real trust isn’t built when you feel everything clearly. It’s built when you walk by faith anyway. When you keep showing up in prayer. When you stay rooted in the Word, even when it doesn’t “pop.” When you sing the worship song not because you feel it, but because you believe it.

Sometimes, the most powerful act of faith isn’t a miracle or a breakthrough. It’s staying still when you want to run and staying faithful when you want to give up.

God may be silent—but he is not absent. If you’re in a quiet season, don’t waste it. Press in. Strip away the noise. Ask God to reveal what he wants to grow in you through the silence, not just after it ends. Because while silence may feel like absence, it’s often preparation. And in the kingdom of God, nothing is wasted.

Apply

Resist the urge to fill the silence. Take ten minutes today—no music, no phone, no noise—and sit still with God. Don’t ask for anything. Just be with him. Let the silence speak. And if it feels awkward or empty, that’s okay. Faith grows in stillness too.

Pray

God, the silence has been hard. I want to hear you clearly, and right now, it just feels quiet. But I choose to trust your heart, even when I can’t hear your voice. Help me remember that your silence is never a sign of absence. Grow in me the kind of faith that doesn’t need constant noise to stay rooted. Draw near, even if it’s in ways I don’t expect. In Jesus’ name. Amen.