I have been absent for awhile. I have no excuse. Sometimes I think I just get in a writer’s funk. I don’t feel like I have anything to say that anyone wants to hear. So I stop talking. Discouragement comes easily as I look at stats and wonder if my words mean anything to anybody. The thought runs through my head, “Is anybody out there?”
For 400 years, the people of Israel thought God was silent. There had been no prophets speaking His words. Thing was, though they couldn’t—or wouldn’t—hear Him, He was still at work. The stage was being set for the ultimate Word that would be shared with the world.
If you’re like me, when you’re reading your Bible, you skip over all those names in the geneologies, but they represent the behind-the-scenes work that was being done in preparation for the Word becoming flesh. Adam to David to Mary, the mother of Jesus, the Word of God who came and dwelt among us.
When I’m silent, it doesn’t mean I have nothing to say, it means that I’m not taking the time to think and listen and write. Most of the time when I’m silent, it means I’m too busy.
When God is silent, it’s like the darkness before the dawn. There is movement, we just can’t see it. Or maybe we could if we studied the sky in the east. Maybe the problem is we’re just not looking in the right place. We’re not quiet enough to hear.
Stop. Listen. Do you hear the sounds of His coming?