About a year ago I found myself in a place that I can only describe as “the bottom of the ocean and the middle of the desert.” I was wronged by someone I trusted and the weight of that betrayal felt like I was sitting at the bottom of the ocean, heaviness pressing in on all sides. At the same time I felt incredibly dry, like I’d stumbled into a desert without any warning. I cried out to the Lord for justice, and while he was not distant or ambivalent I couldn’t hear him speak. His silence only caused me to cry louder, questions mounting in my heart and spilling out in prayers. Of all the times God could be far from me, why now? What is he trying to do with me? And the one I was most afraid to ask- will he return to me?

As much as I’d like to, I don’t have tidy answers to those messy questions. I couldn’t begin to. Months have come and gone since then, and that ocean-deep weight has been gently removed; the dryness met with rain. But you know the cycle of God’s people- we forget and he reminds us. We stray and he shepherds us back again.

Given our tendencies, it isn’t all that surprising that I’ve wandered back into the desert of silence. I hate how quiet it is here. It seems the only things I can hear are my own voice and the Accuser’s. I’m starting to worry that maybe I’ve been forgotten, left out here until I pop up on God’s cosmic radar once again.

Oh, but Truth. It hits me like one of those spring storms that crop up furiously when you least expect them. That isn’t the kind of god he is. He is the God who knows every hair on my head. Who formed me before my mother even sensed me growing inside her. He is the God who saved me while I was stone cold dead in sin, my heart set against him. He is the God who promises to redeem every part of me until I reflect him more radiantly.

He is not a haphazard God, so his silence is purposeful. When the Lord’s face is obscured from his people, it produces an immense longing in us to hear his voice and savor his presence. That desire isn’t something we can cultivate on our own. It requires God’s movement.

Oh, that we might know the Lord! Let us press on to know him. He will respond to us as surely as the arrival of dawn or the coming of rains in early spring.” Hosea 6:3

May I leave you with a picture of this promise played out in our fallen world? Fruit harvested after a drought has a higher concentration of sugar in it than a normal harvest. Do you see that? The fruit produced during that dry, undesirable season is sweet and dripping with complex flavor. There is beauty waiting for us at the end of this desert season. Let us press on to know our God. He will respond to us with the fruit of longing for his voice.

Little note: God’s quietness can be multifaceted. I’ll write about it again soon(ish).