Not because I stopped believing. But because I kept calling out and nothing came back.

I would whisper to the ceiling. I would plead with my thoughts. I would ask for signs, clarity, even a little softness.

But what came instead was silence.

And the silence didn’t feel peaceful.

It felt like being forgotten.

I Was Still in My Faith Era—And Still, It Happened

December 2019 was supposed to be a turning point. In many ways, it was.

I had just married the person I loved most.

And almost immediately after, everything fell apart.

We had to leave my family and our church. We moved into my sister-in-law’s house, which we shared with another family. Culturally, emotionally—it was too much. I didn’t have my space. I didn’t have my footing.

And worst of all, I didn’t have God.

Not because I stopped believing.

But because He stopped speaking.

Or at least, that’s how it felt.

I Thought It Was My Fault

You start doing mental math.

Was it something I did? Something I said?

Was this what the church warned me about? That my doubts would come back to bite me? That my sins were finally catching up?

I was told that struggling with mental health meant I didn’t trust God.

So when I realized God’s silence, I didn’t tell anyone.

Not even my wife.

If I was going to spiral, I thought, let me do it alone.

I Stopped Praying

For a time, I just didn’t.

I couldn’t bring myself to ask again. I had already asked so much. And every time, I was met with what felt like nothing.

So I stayed quiet.

Not in reverence.

But in exhaustion.

And God, if He was still listening, stayed quiet too.

But Something Kept Me Going

Even in the silence, we never lacked.

We had work. Clients kept coming. Even during the height of the pandemic, we were healthy. We were full.

I had a new life with my wife. We laughed sometimes. We made little plans. I found small things to be grateful for.

We didn’t hear God.

But we lived.

And maybe that was His reply.

“The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him.”
– Lamentations 3:25

Maybe the Silence Wasn’t Absence

I still believe God was there.

Looking back, I can see it now—how His hand was still moving.

He didn’t answer in the way I wanted. No visions. No divine voice. No sudden breakthrough.

But there were groceries. There were warm bodies beside me. There were clients who paid for life to move on. There was one more breath. Then another. Then another.

Maybe God wasn’t speaking in words.

Maybe He was answering through reality.

I Was Still Angry

I’m not going to pretend I handled it gracefully.

I was mad.

I wanted to shake Him. Ask why He didn’t show up like the Bible said He would.

I wasn’t mad because He was silent.

I was mad because I had been so faithful.

From my teenage years, I tried to do it all right. Memorized the verses. Led the worship. Trusted Him.

So when my life fell apart right after getting married, I expected God to swoop in and fix it.

When He didn’t—I got angry.

“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?”
– Psalm 13:1–2

God Still Speaks—Just Not Always Loudly

There’s a story in 1 Kings 19. The prophet Elijah is hiding in a cave, drained and afraid.

God says He’s about to pass by.

And Elijah sees a powerful wind.

Then an earthquake.

Then a fire.

But God wasn’t in any of those.

Then came a gentle whisper.

“And after the fire came a gentle whisper.”
– 1 Kings 19:12c

I read that verse and cried.

Because for months, all I wanted was wind and fire and earthquakes. Something big. Something clear.

But maybe God had been whispering all along.

Silence Can Still Be a Message

I don’t believe God plays games.

If He’s quiet, I believe there’s still a reason—even if I’ll never fully understand it.

Sometimes silence is an invitation. A space to grow. A pause between the chapters.

Sometimes silence is grief, because even God grieves with us.

Sometimes silence is presence, without pressure.

And sometimes, silence is just silence.

“In quietness and trust is your strength.”
– Isaiah 30:15b

What I’d Tell Someone Who’s Not Hearing Anything

• Try listening differently.
• Try noticing what’s still standing around you.
• Maybe the silence is the answer.
• Maybe it’s permission to stop striving and just exist for a while.

Or maybe this is your chance to scream. Rage. Ask why. Ask again.

God is patient enough to hold space for your questions—even the angry ones.

You don’t have to perform hope right now.

You’re allowed to wait.

We Don’t Talk About This Enough

I think most churches don’t know how to hold silence.

We sing about God’s presence, but we don’t sing about His distance.

We preach answers, but not the waiting.

We celebrate testimonies that end in miracles, not those that end in “still waiting.”

And yet—those are the stories I trust the most.

If Silence Was God Speaking

Be patient as I am patient.
Listen more as I try to listen.
Speak less and let Me speak more.

I’m not sure I always heard Him.

But I believe He was there.

Still is.

Reflection Questions

• Have you ever experienced spiritual silence? What did it feel like?
• Did you ever blame yourself for not hearing God?
• In what ways might God be “speaking” that aren’t verbal?
• What comforts you when prayer feels empty?
• Do you believe silence can be holy?

Affiliate Disclosure: Some links in this post are affiliate links. If you click through and make a purchase, I may earn a small commission—at no extra cost to you. I only recommend resources I personally find helpful.

Further Reading & Listening

• God on Mute by Pete Greig
• Lament for a Son by Nicholas Wolterstorff
• Podcast: Everything Happens with Kate Bowler

Coming Soon in the Series

1. Faith and Mental Health: Can I Still Be Christian If I’m Depressed?
2. Deconstructing Without Losing Everything
3. When the Bible Makes You Angry
4. The Faith I Left Behind (and the One I Found Again)