Sacred Space and Silent Years

After my husband’s first cancer diagnosis, we met with the surgeon, who worked hard to put us at ease. After surgery, we waited for the results to see if the cancer had metastasized from the tumor and spread throughout his body. Though we felt God was present, He didn’t speak words of comfort or assurance to us, but it seemed to us that He would. 

Waiting is one of the most common and challenging experiences in life. Waiting in faith is well described by the word liminal, derived from the Latin word for “threshold.” When we wait, we are on the threshold of something new. It might be positive, like midnight giving way to sunrise, or it might be difficult, like daytime turning to dusk, metaphorically speaking. A pregnant mother waits for her child to be born, wondering about them in those liminal months. Engagement to marriage is a liminal period, a threshold into something new. From diagnosis to cure or diagnosis to death. Liminal periods. 

Waiting is uncomfortable and yet, for the believer, necessary. Tish Harrison Warren, an Anglican priest, writes, “A friend of mine, an older Anglican priest, often tells me that the time between an event and our response to it is where wisdom grows.” Abraham and Sarah waited twenty-five years from promise to fulfillment. Joseph waited thirteen years from imprisonment to exultation. Perhaps the most difficult liminal space in Christianity was not a matter of years but the three days from Jesus’s crucifixion to His resurrection. 

Scripture tells us that even when the circumstances didn’t warrant it, Abraham kept the faith (Romans 4:18–19), and so did Joseph (Genesis 50:20). That liminal space in our circumstances is sacred because it’s where, even though we have no answer and God’s promises have not yet manifested, we learn to yield to His will. Even Jesus, on the threshold of His crucifixion, stated, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done” (Luke 22:42). 

We often interpret Proverbs 13:20’s instruction, “Walk with the wise and become wise,” to be about walking with our earthly companions, which is true. But the wisest One we can walk with is God. Scripture tells us of some who did: Enoch (Genesis 5:24) and Noah (6:9). Micah 6:8 tells us God requires us to walk humbly with Him. In our liminal periods, on the threshold to something new, when God doesn’t speak to us but helps us to feel His presence, that is what we must do. Walk with Him as companions and servants, becoming wise as our faith is stretched by waiting. 

My husband’s cancer story is not over, but that tumor had not metastasized. We have other thresholds before us, and you do, too. Be at peace because the Lord is near in those sacred spaces (Philippians 4:4–7). 

There are other times, though, which don’t seem liminal, in between hearing from God, but instead, it feels like He’s gone silent for such a long time we wonder if He will ever speak to us again. 

One friend who suffers from cyclical depression says, “When I’m depressed, I need God the most but hear from Him the least. It’s hard to believe He sees me or loves me.” Anyone who has walked through a hard time and not heard from God can relate. A benediction in Romans 15:13 says, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” When God is silent, we often don’t feel joy, peace, or love. We feel alone. 

While it’s true that God rests (Genesis 2:2), He is not asleep or slumbering. He attentively cares for His people and, importantly, sees events unfurl and unfold in line with His great plans. 

The four hundred years between the biblical books Malachi and Matthew are often called the silent years because God did not send a new word to His prophets during that time. During His silent years, it’s only natural to wonder what God is doing or if He’s forgotten us. But while He seemed silent, He was at work on the most important event in history. Daniel prophesied much of what was to happen, and having sent His word to His people, God set the events in motion. 

During those silent years, Alexander the Great conquered much of the Middle East, including the Israelites’ land. He demanded the lands become Hellenized, made more Greek. Because of that, many people spoke Greek, making evangelization possible through a common language. 

Next, Rome stepped onto the scene. They built roads that would make spreading the gospel easier and implemented their standard form of execution—crucifixion, which fulfilled prophecy (Deuteronomy 21:23 NLT tells us that anyone hanged on a “tree” is cursed). Jesus completed this prophecy as we learn in Galatians 3:13: “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, for it is written: ‘Cursed is everyone who is hung on a pole.’” 

The silence after the Old Testament was broken by the greatest news in human history. 

When God seems silent, friend, He is not inattentive nor uncaring. He is present, working in ways we cannot see. He has a good plan for you. He will see His overall purposes through (Psalm 33:11). 

Keep the faith. Even when He’s quiet, He’s not forever silent. He’s working. He’s here. 

Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it. 

Genesis 28:16 

—Written by Sandra Bryd. Used by permission from the author and by Our Daily Bread Publishers, since the article is excerpted from the devotional articles “Sacred Spaces” and “Silent Years” in More than Enough: 90 Devotions for Loving Yourself as God Loves You.