The Sheer Sweetness of Silent Tongues: Why I Marvel at God's Chosen Muteness
Hey y’all! So, something’s been on my heart lately, and it's the whole idea of silence, specifically the times when God seems to choose silence. Now, I’m not talking about the quiet moments in nature, although those are pretty sweet too. I'm talking about when people can't speak up, whether they’re literally unable to or feel like their voice just won't be heard. It's weird, right? But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve found this incredible, almost paradoxical, sweetness in it.
It all started a few weeks ago. My nephew, little Timmy, was born with a condition that means he can't speak. At first, it was heartbreaking. I remember the tears and the prayers for a miracle. But then, something shifted. I started to see the way Timmy communicates – with his eyes, with his little hands, with his whole being. And honestly, it’s like he has a language all his own, a language that’s so pure and so direct. It got me thinking about how sometimes, the loudest communication isn’t actually verbal.
The Bible talks about this a lot too, though we don't always connect it to muteness in the literal sense. Think about Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist. Remember how he doubted the angel’s message, and for that, he was struck dumb until John was born? (Luke 1:20). I mean, talk about a silent treatment! And yet, during his silence, he was forced to listen, to reflect, and ultimately, his faith deepened. Then, as soon as the situation was right, God brought his voice back and his prophecy was so much more powerful. It was during the silence that preparation for the next stage was happening. I look at that and see the beauty of God's timing, and sometimes even his deliberate lack of audible timing.
Another time, I was having a serious struggle at work. I had this boss who was just… well, let’s just say he wasn’t a great listener. I felt like everything I said went straight to deaf ears. I was praying like crazy, asking God for wisdom and for a way to be heard. But, you know what? It felt like God was silent. I started feeling like a child who had done something wrong, like the silence was my punishment! Eventually, I decided to try a different approach. I focused on my work, I let my actions speak for themselves, and wouldn't you know it, my boss started to notice things. He finally saw my value when he couldn't tune out my work, even without my vocal input. It was like God was showing me that sometimes, our voice is found in our faithfulness, even if we have to remain outwardly quiet.
It’s like, sometimes, God chooses silence to turn our focus inward. Like, maybe our noise is getting in the way of hearing what He has for us. Maybe our constant chatter drowns out the still, small voice. We're so used to vocalizing our thoughts and feelings that we forget the incredible power in just being quiet. Psalm 46:10 says, "Be still, and know that I am God." It’s that “be still” part that gets me. Being still isn’t just about physical quiet; it’s about an inner quiet, a surrender to God’s plan, even when we don’t understand it, or have the ability to explain our understanding to others.
This idea has completely changed how I approach prayer, too. Now, I spend part of my prayer time just being quiet, listening for that still, small voice, not filling the space with my constant requests and worries. It’s helped me realize how much I need to depend on God for everything, that even when my voice isn't heard, His will is always being done, even when it feels like nothing. I’ve also been working harder to listen to the people in my life who struggle to be heard – those with disabilities, those who are shy, those who are simply quiet. Maybe their voices are quieter than we're used to, but their message is just as important.
I mean, honestly, think about it. There are people in our lives right now who are just waiting to be seen and heard, even when they can't literally speak. And in their silent expressions, they have so much to teach us about faith, about resilience, about the beauty of a language that transcends words. So, yeah, I’m finding this crazy sweetness in the silence, this quiet strength that I never even noticed before. It's a reminder that God speaks in more ways than we can possibly imagine, and it's not always about having a voice, but listening to the ones already there.
So I want to leave you with this, friends. How have you experienced God in the moments of silence in your own life? What has His silence taught you?