Today I was feeling a bit discouraged and overwhelmed. I had prayed, but it seemed God was silent, and I was wondering why I had to wait for His answer. As I often do in such moods, I reached for a treasured book, Springs in the Valley, by L. B. Cowman. The entries in this devotional book often seem to be written just for me. This time was no different. The words jumped off the page and struck my heart:
"'When He had heard therefore that [Lazarus] was sick, He abode two days still in the same place where He was.' (Jn 11:6) And so the silence of God was itself an answer. It is not merely said that there was no audible response to the cry from Bethany; it is distinctly stated that the absence of an audible response was itself the answer to the cry -- it was when the Lord heard that Lazarus was sick that therefore He abode two days still in the same place where He was. I have often heard the outward silence. A hundred times have I sent up aspirations whose only answer has seemed to be the echo of my own voice, and I have cried out in the night of my despair, 'Why art Thou so far from helping me?' But I never thought that the seeming farness was itself the nearness of God -- that the very silence was an answer.
It was a very grand answer to the household of Bethany. They had not asked too much, but too little. They had asked only the life of Lazarus. They were to get the life of Lazarus and a revelation of eternal life as well."
Maybe I haven't asked enough of God yet...
"There are some prayers that are followed by a Divine silence because we are not yet ripe for all we have asked; there are others which are so followed because we are ripe for more. We do not always know the full strength of our own capacity; we have to be prepared for receiving greater blessings than we have ever dreamed. We come to the door of the sepulcher and beg with tears the dead body of Jesus; we are answered by silence because we are to get something better -- a living Lord."
Now it made sense. I am not yet ready for God's answer because I have not yet fully died to wanting my own way in the matter. When I die to self, I will be stretched to receive the full measure of the answer God wants to give me. I want that. I want a living Lord!
"My soul, be not afraid of God's silence; it is another form of His voice. God's silence is more than man's speech. ... Have thy prayers been followed by a calm stillness? Well! Is not that God's voice -- a voice that will suffice thee in the meantime till the full disclosure comes? ... Wait for Him in silence, and ere long it shall become vocal. ... Think not that God's silence is coldness or indifference. When birds are on the nest preparing to bring forth life, they never sing. God's stillness is full of brooding. Be not impatient of God! When the Lord is to lead a soul to great faith, He for a time leaves his prayer unanswered" (pg. 284-285).
Humbled, I put the book away. God's silence is no longer something to be feared, but rather something to be cherished until He chooses to speak. I am satisfied. I want great faith, and if it means long silence from God, then so be it.
"'When He had heard therefore that [Lazarus] was sick, He abode two days still in the same place where He was.' (Jn 11:6) And so the silence of God was itself an answer. It is not merely said that there was no audible response to the cry from Bethany; it is distinctly stated that the absence of an audible response was itself the answer to the cry -- it was when the Lord heard that Lazarus was sick that therefore He abode two days still in the same place where He was. I have often heard the outward silence. A hundred times have I sent up aspirations whose only answer has seemed to be the echo of my own voice, and I have cried out in the night of my despair, 'Why art Thou so far from helping me?' But I never thought that the seeming farness was itself the nearness of God -- that the very silence was an answer.
It was a very grand answer to the household of Bethany. They had not asked too much, but too little. They had asked only the life of Lazarus. They were to get the life of Lazarus and a revelation of eternal life as well."
Maybe I haven't asked enough of God yet...
"There are some prayers that are followed by a Divine silence because we are not yet ripe for all we have asked; there are others which are so followed because we are ripe for more. We do not always know the full strength of our own capacity; we have to be prepared for receiving greater blessings than we have ever dreamed. We come to the door of the sepulcher and beg with tears the dead body of Jesus; we are answered by silence because we are to get something better -- a living Lord."
Now it made sense. I am not yet ready for God's answer because I have not yet fully died to wanting my own way in the matter. When I die to self, I will be stretched to receive the full measure of the answer God wants to give me. I want that. I want a living Lord!
"My soul, be not afraid of God's silence; it is another form of His voice. God's silence is more than man's speech. ... Have thy prayers been followed by a calm stillness? Well! Is not that God's voice -- a voice that will suffice thee in the meantime till the full disclosure comes? ... Wait for Him in silence, and ere long it shall become vocal. ... Think not that God's silence is coldness or indifference. When birds are on the nest preparing to bring forth life, they never sing. God's stillness is full of brooding. Be not impatient of God! When the Lord is to lead a soul to great faith, He for a time leaves his prayer unanswered" (pg. 284-285).
Humbled, I put the book away. God's silence is no longer something to be feared, but rather something to be cherished until He chooses to speak. I am satisfied. I want great faith, and if it means long silence from God, then so be it.
"We have to be prepared for receiving greater blessings than we have ever dreamed."
ReplyDeleteWhat a thought. Can I trust Him through the silence?
Thanks for sharing, Bekah. I miss you.