Today has been quiet. Not the kind of quiet that brings peace, necessarily — more like the kind of quiet that feels like You’re hiding. I don’t want to admit it, but I’ve felt distant from You lately, like I’m calling out into a canyon and all I hear is my own voice echoing back. It scares me.
I keep thinking of Elijah in 1 Kings 19. After the fire, after the earthquake, after the wind… there You were — not in the chaos, but in the still small voice. A whisper.
“And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper.”
— 1 Kings 19:12 (ESV)
I wonder if I’m just too distracted to hear Your whisper.
This morning, I sat with my coffee and tried to read the Word like I usually do. But I’ll be honest — I didn’t get far. My mind kept wandering to everything I feel like I’m missing: direction, clarity, certainty. I want to know what You want from me — with my career, with my singleness, with this sense of waiting I can’t shake.
I know faith isn’t about feelings. I know that. I’ve told myself that a hundred times. But I miss feeling You near.
So I prayed:
“God, if You’re here — please, help me to hear You. Even in the silence. Especially in the silence.”
And right then, I felt a strange peace settle over me. Not loud. Not even warm, really. But steady. Like a whisper I couldn’t quite catch, but I knew was meant for me.
Maybe that’s what faith looks like sometimes — trusting that You’re present even when You don’t speak loud.
I remembered Psalm 46:10:
“Be still, and know that I am God.”
Being still is harder than it sounds. My brain constantly wants answers. Movement. Resolution. But You invite me into stillness. Not just quiet around me, but quiet in me. A heart that isn’t frantic for answers but anchored in You.
Faith, I think, is most real when it has to lean on who You are, not what I can hear or feel.
“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”
— Hebrews 11:1 (ESV)
I guess I’ve been measuring closeness with You by how “seen” or “heard” I feel. But maybe this is one of those seasons where You’re inviting me deeper — past the emotional highs, into the quiet trust.
Like a relationship that matures. Less fireworks, more foundation.
There’s something beautiful and hard about that.
I walked down to the lake near my apartment this evening. The water was still — not a breeze. Just birdsong and the hum of life going on. I sat on a bench and asked You again: “Are You here?” I didn’t hear a voice. No signs. But my eyes caught this tiny ripple on the surface of the lake — like something beneath moved, unseen, but there.
I don’t know why, but I thought: That’s You. Moving beneath the surface of my life. Quietly. Faithfully. Even when I can’t see it. Even when I forget to notice.
It reminded me of Isaiah 30:15:
“In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.”
That’s the kind of strength I want. Not the kind that performs or pretends to have it all figured out. But the quiet strength of a heart that trusts You are good — especially when I don’t have the map.
Jesus, I believe You are enough for me in the silence. I don’t need a booming voice or a perfect plan. I just need You. And You’ve promised You’ll never leave.
“And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
— Matthew 28:20 (ESV)
Tonight, I’ll go to bed still not knowing exactly what’s next. Still single. Still unsure about grad school. Still a little worn down. But I will lay my head down in peace — not because the silence is gone, but because You are in it.
You whisper, and that’s enough.
Let me learn to lean in. To trust even when You seem far. To believe that You’re close even when it feels quiet.
A Prayer Before I Sleep:
God,
Thank You for meeting me in the silence.
Even when I can’t feel You, You’re faithful.
Teach me to listen for Your whispers —
Not just in the quiet around me,
But in the stillness of my soul.
Grow my faith in the unseen.
Help me to rest in Your presence —
Not because I have all the answers,
But because I know You hold them.
I love You, even when I don’t understand.
I trust You, even when You whisper.
And I’m Yours, always.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
The Christian Tech-Nerd 
This was such a lovely post, and it captures that strange ebb in our sense of God’s closeness that we all feel at times. How lovely, that in that ebb we seem to want and love him more. I enjoyed reading your post and heartfelt prayer.
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙏
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is a sad post and seems typical of people your age. A few years ago, the average age of staff at my office was 52. Now, there are 8 of us who are over 50. We have 8 staff under 30 and 5 in their 30s and 40s. Seven of the staff members under 30 are single, one of the staff members in her 40s is single (never married), and 4 of the staff over 50 are single.
The office demographics have changed from mostly married 6 years ago to mostly single today, and most of the single staff are in your cohort. The single young women have trouble finding young men who are strong, manly, and willing to deal with smart women. The young men have trouble finding young women who are okay with their masculinity.
While the young women and men in the office are compatible and get along very well, they don’t want to have office romances. Four of our single staff are strong Christians. All the young folks are abstinent from most vices, while we old folks are still into sex, drugs, and rock and roll, although I don’t do drugs, other than prescription drugs. A sad reality of aging.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much for taking time out of yiur day to write such a well thought out comment! I appreciate you so much for that Timothy!
LikeLiked by 1 person
We need a more masculine Christianity methinks. We would do well to remember Jesus was neither a Wall Street derivatives salesman nor professional football player but a carpenter for a reason.
P.S. In Hoc Signo Vinces
LikeLike
The problem is that no one ever gets off grid long enough to hear God’s voice over the cacophony. Try getting offline for a set period of time every year (double dog dare to make it one month) to meditate on one’s purpose and try to hear God’s reply.
LikeLike
Hello, I read your piece this morning and wanted to let you know that I have been experiencing similar feelings of late. Sometimes it’s hard to be still and be quiet. We’re so used to all the noise and feelings. In God’s case, like you, I am learning to be quiet and trust Him for everything. I mean “everything.” Blessings to you as you continue your journey with the Lord.
In Christ
Russ P.
LikeLike
Something ethereal in this post. Your honest prayer to God revealed to us to read and see the hidden things that go on inside of you. I feel privileged and yet unsure if I belong here. It is beautiful to see you reaching out to God when he hides his felt presence from you. Given time I know that he will answer you again. “Call unto me and I will answer you says the Lord”. It seems in a strange way to be treading on holy ground. The intimate intercourse of a daughter of God with her Father is usually so private and unknown. This intimacy holds an amazing attraction to it all. I can relate and help to carry your burden, yet stand certain that soon Father will reveal himself to you once again. Stand strong and keep seeking the face of the Lord. The darkness brought by the devil can only last a few hours or days. These times are like storms that rage so fearfully, but soon the skies shall be blue again and the sun shining brightly. You are not alone. I stand with you in this time of difficulty that you encounter. I think there are others as well.
LikeLike