OPERATING IN THE SILENCE OF GOD

Ann Marie Bryan
4 days ago
2 min read

Updated: 2 days ago

Guest Post by Author A. L. Ember

The silence can be deafening, loud, powerful, overwhelming. It’s funny how even the smallest sounds, like a ticking clock or a dripping pipe, can bring comfort just because they remind you something is happening. Burning bushes are scary, sure, but at least Moses knew what was going on.

For someone like me, a planner, a “ten steps ahead” kind of person; that kind of clarity feels safe. But there comes a time when God goes silent. And I don’t mean when Jesus was asleep in the boat with the disciples, or when the Israelites were wandering the desert with clouds by day and fire by night. I mean outer-space silent. Vast, quiet, still.

The kind of silence that makes you second-guess if you missed a turn somewhere.

But here’s the thing: the GPS is only quiet when you’re going in the right direction.

Isaiah 30:20–21 (TPT) puts it beautifully: “Even though the Lord may allow you to go through a season of hardship and difficulty, He Himself will be there with you… When you turn to the right or to the left, you will hear His voice behind you to guide you, saying, ‘This is the right path; follow it.’”

That verse reminds me that God’s silence doesn’t mean He’s gone quiet out of neglect; it’s often because we’re already on the path He set for us. He’s still there, guiding, teaching, building something in us we can’t yet see.

If He showed us the entire story of our lives, we wouldn’t need to trust Him. And honestly, if we saw all the heartbreak and hard moments in advance, we might not even want the blessings that come after. So, He gives us one instruction, one step, one moment at a time. It’s His way of building trust, sometimes gently, sometimes forcefully.

These silent seasons aren’t punishments; they’re invitations. Invitations to grow, to listen differently, to strengthen what we say we believe. God knows how to reach each of His children, and sometimes that means speaking softly instead of loudly.

And as much as I don’t like the silence, I’ve learned this: a tested faith becomes a trusted faith.

If you’re in that quiet season right now, hold steady. Keep walking. The silence might just be the sound of things falling into place.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A.L. Ember is a writer, encourager, and quiet warrior of hope. With a heart for strong friends, silent sufferers, and late-night overthinkers, she crafts honest, healing words that offer grace and space to breathe.

Drawing from seasons of waiting, surrender, and weariness, A.L. believes in showing up honestly, embracing rest, and reminding everyone they are seen, loved, and carried; always..