When God is Silent
Psalm 23:4 (NIV)
Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
There have been times in my life when I faced death, or better stated, death met me. Sometimes, I was terrified; other times, it wasn't until after the event that fear came upon me.
I had a thought the other day, "life is fear-based when it should be faith-based." We respond out of fear throughout the day. How so? When the alarm goes off, we don't rise in faith; we force ourselves to roll out of bed in fear, subtle and unnoticeable. We fear being late for work, the consequences and the list goes on.
In my early twenties, waking up in the mornings was so hard it seemed as though I could never get enough sleep. My alarm clock was my mortal enemy, so I renamed it “The Opportunity Clock.” When it sounded, I would sit up in bed, simultaneously slap both sides of my face, and say, “Today is going to be a great day, a day of opportunity!”
I needed to wake up and create a positive outlook for the day that lay ahead. I knew the day would be hard, and I had to face it. In some ways, the Holy Spirit is our alarm, our motivation for the day, the weeks, and the months that loom ahead. But what about when God is silent? The verse reads, “Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” What happens when we can’t feel the staff?
Imagine you’re a sheep, and you fall into a crevice, and the shepherd comes to your aid; instead of crawling down into your circumstances, He takes His staff, reaches the hook end down, and grabs your leg to pull you up.
In the silent times, we need to think about our shepherd; we know he’s there; he doesn’t have to say anything. He’s still there.
Through the long night, we know He’s watching; if we were in the flock, we would understand that He may be watching over us at the end of the field or on the higher ground. We know the sun will rise; maybe there was a harsh storm during the night, or perhaps it was cold, but He’s still there and knows what we can endure. There’s a mist in the pre-nautical twilight. We can faintly see His silhouette, the figure of our protection, and in His hand, we can see the staff and the rod that comforts us.
Without saying anything, He guides us to the next pasture, our next opportunity; he knows your clock is ticking. Sometimes, that sound of opportunity sounds like silence.
He is Jehovah Rohi
Lord our Shepherd and Friend