Silence may be golden, but duct tape is silver. – Phil Meyers (deceased pastor in my last congregation)

“What has been happening in your prayer life?”

The young pastor looked up and drew in a deep breath. After a minute or two, he said, “Actually, I haven’t been hearing much from God at all in my prayer life.” He said it in such a way that made me think he was surprised to hear those words come out of his mouth.

“Do you normally hear from God in your prayer life?” I asked.

“Always!” he said.

“But what has been happening lately?” I asked.

“Stone-cold silence,” he said.

“How do you feel about that?” I asked.

“Like I am doing something wrong,” he said.

“What if I told you that I believe that God’s first language is silence?”

He just stared at me like I was speaking a foreign language.

The silence of God is not always a sign of displeasure. God is more often silent in my life than chatty. Honestly, I am a little dubious when people tell me that they hear from God all the time. When someone tells me, “God told me to tell you this.” Or “God told me to do such and such.” I find that very off-putting. How do you argue with God? The ultimate conversation stopper is when someone says, “God told me…”

I know God is close to my heart, but a constant flow of direct words and instructions? —I can count on one hand the times I was absolutely certain I heard a direct word from God.

The children of Israel were in slavery for four hundred years, and they didn’t hear a single word from God as far as we know. God speaks to Job for the first time in Job chapter 38. Job thought it was it was eternity. After the last verse of Malachi, God is silent again until the angel came to talk to a little teenage girl in Nazareth named Mary—some four hundred years later. God seems to be quite comfortable with silence.

One of my favorite artists is Andrew Peterson, and he has a song entitled “The Silence of God.” Here are a few lines from that song:

It’s enough to drive a man crazy
Or break a man’s faith
It’s enough to make him wonder
If he’s ever been sane
When he’s bleeding for comfort
From thy staff and thy rod
And the heavens’ only answer
Is the silence of God

If you have walked with God for any period of time, those words probably resonate with you. It can be frustrating not to hear from someone you love. And often it feels like God is ghosting us.

The week of Jesus’ death, he was trying to explain what was going to happen regarding his crucifixion to his disciples and others, and at one point, he just walked away from them all.

John says it like this: After Jesus had said this, he departed and hid from them. (John 12:36)

How frustrating that must have been for the crowd who were pestering him for answers to their questions.

Silence.

It has become my conviction that the deeper our love for someone, the more comfortable we are being silent in their presence.

Mother Teresa lived in complete obscurity for decades before the world discovered her. Every day during those years of obscurity, she prayed and communed before her Lord in silence. Then, when she became famous, she continued her practice of silent adoration.

She often gave away what she called her “Business Card.” On the card were these words:

The fruit of silence is prayer.

The fruit of prayer is faith.

The fruit of faith is love.

The fruit of love is service.

The fruit of service is peace.

She was interviewed once and asked whether she really prayed every day. She nodded that she did. The reporter followed up with the question, “What do you say to God?”

“Mostly I just listen.”

The reporter is growing cynical and wryly asks, “What does God say to you when you listen?”

She smiled and whispered, “He mostly listens too.”

A secure love is comfortable with silence. An insecure love needs constant reassurance. An insecure love is desperate for turn-by-turn directions to find its way in this life. A secure love walks with a deep abiding assurance that the Holy Spirit that resides within is going with you, no matter where you go, and will gently nudge this way and that along the sacred journey.

God is not Siri, Alexa, or AI—he is a real being that is constantly with us as our faithful companion. When he speaks, it is often in a whisper. That is why we need to be still and turn up the quiet in our lives.

We touch on a mystery here. Being in communion with God doesn’t always mean we are in constant communication with God. Wordless prayers are the norm for me.

When my dad was teaching me how to work, whether that was piling hay bales, building a fence, or digging ditches, there came a point in our relationship when I could see what he wanted done by watching him work, and then I could join him in his work because I knew what my father was doing. I could anticipate my role in my father’s work.

I’ve learned to sit still, open my heart, be present to the God who resides deep within, and move out into the world slowly to do what is good, beautiful, and true.

You can too.