It has been quiet.
Quiet on this blog.
Quiet on social media.
Quiet between God and I.
That last one? That’s the hard one.
Typically, I am a gal who prays in technicolor.
But these last few weeks? Gray.
A stillness inside has lodged into a place that used to be vibrant, and alive.
Inside, where my heart and mind and soul intersect, is a place where God meets me, listens to me, talks to me – and it has become a very quiet place.
Those conversations I have where God, well, maybe He doesn’t actually, audibly speak..but yet, He does.
Those moments I love, when He layers His thoughts over my own, aggregating them together?
He is there.
I know, because I know my God.
He is with me, always.
Though there may be times I struggle to hear His voice – I never struggle to feel His grip.
Perhaps He is teaching me something about stillness?
But I miss our talks.
Well, actually, I still talk..
I guess I miss not being able to discern His response.
I miss the vibrancy of it all.
The color of my joy seems to have faded, become a bit muted.
But I am keeping on.
I am praying anyway.
I am singing songs, praising Him for His promises – the ones I am clinging to.
And if my joy isn’t neon, glaring, and audacious right now? That’s okay.
I still have hope.
Quiet faith is okay.
Losing faith is not.
But I won’t wait with a fear that the silence will continue but maybe with something closer to…anticipation?
Because as I type this I realize something very important, and very relevant: Easter is coming.
And if ever there was a story that pointed to hope after unwelcome silence? The story of Easter is it.
Because when I consider that dark and quiet tomb, the sudden silence after the chaos and pain of Good Friday, I can see how that time must have looked hopeless, and much too quiet, for those who were left waiting.. questioning.. hoping..
But it was in that particular quiet that the most important work of all time was occuring.
Hope was building.
God was moving.
So, sure, there was some silence, but EVERYTHING was about to change..for the better.
From that quiet and silent tomb, hope sprang forth!
Hope – in all its beautiful, vibrant, exploding-with-every-kinda-color, joy!
So, I am ok with my quiet.
I am continuing to thank the One who made all things, even the silence.
I believe I will soon be again thankful for the days where God is speaking to my heart, and where our conversations are again in focus, in color, in full spectrum brightness.
And for now, I will continue to reach for the Hands that hold all my days.
Love and prayers for you all and authentically yours,