Silence

Silence. Awkward. And the silence of God is also one of the resounding questions of our lives. God can be silent sometimes... What then?

Jesus is kind even in his silence.

Yes. Kind. We immediately think aloof, distant, condemning, etc. But he is kind.

He knows our hearts and what we can bear. I am amazed at his patience with the disciples. In John 16:12, he tells his disciples he will not tell them more than they can bear. Sometimes, we want to hear and to know, but it would be more than we could bear or more than we are ready for. Feel his patience and feel his intimate knowledge of your heart. Feel him quiet it, "Trust me. You have all you need to know, all you need to bear right now. I am bearing the rest. I will give you what you need, and when you need it." He is kind in his silence.

He knows what grace we need at that moment. Sometimes, we search for what we want to call grace--the grace we ourselves define "grace" on our terms and desires. Grace is relief, removing the problem, right? But he knows what form of grace we need, and that grace can be uncomfortable sometimes. A grace that breaks through our strongholds, unmasks our fears, uncovers the shadows in our hearts. It is a grace that helps us in the circumstances, not removes them. Yet, this "uncomfortable" grace reveals Christ more clearly and will eventually comfort us more deeply. That grace may take the form of silence, asking us to trust, to walk by faith, or a "no" or "wait" to what we had in mind, or various other forms. Yet, it is for our good, in his tender care and mercy. Hear his promise of poured out grace. Hear his heart beating in love for you. Rest your head on his bosom. He is kind in his silence.

Sometimes, we want words and answers, but we don't need them--we need a presence. There is a deep ministry of presence, just being with. To sit in silence. Jesus is with us. Incarnated Son. He treads our teary treks with us, in silence, just with us--even as we lash out in grief, rail out in anger, pummel in frustration. He holds us. In silence, taking it all, bearing it all--just as he did on the cross. He is present, with us, quieting us, even as we beat his breast in our pain. When we have no more tears, exhausted and drained, we will see he was there the whole time. Present, in silence. He is kind in his silence.

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;

    my eyes are not raised too high;

I do not occupy myself with things

    too great and too marvelous for me.

But I have calmed and quieted my soul,

    like a weaned child with its mother;

    like a weaned child is my soul within me.

O Israel, hope in the Lord

    from this time forth and forevermore.

Ps 131