Suffering can feel overwhelming. But when suffering stretches on with no answer from God, it can feel unbearable.
There have been times when I’ve cried out for relief and deliverance, wondering if it would ever come. I’ve brought my earnest prayers and questions before God, only to be met with echoing silence. I’ve underlined and starred these words in my Bible: “I am weary with my crying out; my throat is parched. My eyes grow dim with waiting for my God” (Psalm 69:3).
My eyes have almost failed waiting for God. Have yours?
While I’m waiting, everything swirls together — my anxious cries, my shattered dreams, my longing for God to rescue me. My prayers seem to bounce off the walls. Scripture feels dry and tasteless. And then doubt creeps in. Has God forgotten me? Does he see me? Does he even care?
In my protracted waiting, I wonder if God knows how hard this is. I question why God is letting this continue for so long. I assume he isn’t doing anything in the silence. But Scripture tells a different story.
Experiencing God’s Silence
Throughout Scripture, saints have experienced seasons where God seemed silent as their suffering pressed in. Some gave up hope and stopped asking. Others took matters into their own hands. Still others questioned what they once knew to be true.
Enduring suffering and God’s silence simultaneously creates a mysterious elixir that can shake even the most devout.
Zechariah struggled to believe the angel’s promise that his prayer had been answered — perhaps he had stopped praying, stopped hoping for a child after years of barrenness. Abraham and Sarah, weary of waiting, took matters into their own hands, leading to Ishmael’s birth through Hagar. Job cried out in his suffering, longing for God’s voice, but for much of his trial, God was silent. John the Baptist, once filled with prophetic confidence, questioned if Jesus was truly the Messiah when he languished in prison. Even David, God’s anointed, spent years crying out, wondering why God had not answered him.
We can endure pain, but suffering God’s silence is bewildering. It makes waiting excruciating.
Centuries of Silent Preparation
One of the longest silences in biblical history was the four hundred years between the testaments. After the prophet Malachi spoke of a coming messenger who would prepare the way for the Lord (Malachi 3:1), the voice of God went quiet. No new prophets. No fresh revelation. Just silence.
Generations passed. God’s people suffered under oppression. They waited. They prayed. And they must have wondered, Has God abandoned us?
But God had not forgotten them. In the silence, he was preparing the world for Jesus. The Greek language spread, making it possible for the gospel to reach many nations. The Roman Empire built roads, paving the way for missionary travel. And some among the Jewish people, desperate for deliverance, became more open to Christ’s coming.
Then, when the time was right, the cries of a baby broke the four-hundred-year silence. This time, God came in the flesh. Paul describes it this way: “When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son” (Galatians 4:4). Rather than speaking through prophets, God spoke through Jesus, his own Son (Hebrews 1:1–2).
During those seemingly silent centuries, God was aligning history for Christ’s arrival — establishing a common language and political structures that would allow the gospel to spread. God was not absent in the silence. He was preparing hearts, nations, and history for a deliverance beyond anything they had hoped for, a kingdom unlike any other.
Silent, Not Absent
God’s silence is often misunderstood. We wonder if he has abandoned us, is punishing us, or doesn’t care. When we have no answers, we might fill in the gaps ourselves, assigning motives to God based on what we see. David felt abandoned as he fled from his enemies, crying out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1). But God had not forsaken David, and in Christ, he will not forsake us. There is nowhere we can go where he will not be with us.
Job’s friends assumed his suffering was punishment, but they were wrong. Job himself wrestled with God’s silence, asking, “Why do you hide your face and count me as your enemy?” (Job 13:24). He longed for an explanation but received none. Yet in the end, when God finally spoke, Job’s perspective shifted — not because he got answers, but because he encountered God in a way he never had before. Humbled and in awe, he declared, “I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you” (Job 42:5). God’s silence was not abandonment; it was an invitation to deeper trust.
Sometimes we assume God’s silence means he doesn’t care. When Jesus heard that Lazarus was sick, he delayed — long enough for Lazarus to die. But his delay was not neglect; it was love (John 11:5–6). God always has a purpose in his timing, even when we don’t understand it.
God’s Quiet Work
Since we know God is not absent, what is he doing in our waiting? Here’s what he has done, and continues to do, in mine.
He has grown my trust in him. When my prayers were answered instantly, I valued God’s gifts more than I valued him. I wanted relief more than I wanted God. But God has used waiting to shift my focus from the things of this world to the things of God.
He has taught me to listen. Waiting has driven me deeper into Scripture, eager to hear his voice. I listen more carefully — both to his word and to how he may be speaking through circumstances, through others, and through his still small voice.
He has reminded me of his faithfulness. I’ve journaled for years, and looking back, I see how many prayers he has answered — though rarely in my timing. Some answers were “no,” and some I’m still waiting for. But his faithfulness is written on every page.
He has drawn me into deeper dependence. Uncertainty unsettles me. I want something tangible to hold onto when nothing feels stable. But quick fixes don’t build lasting faith. Waiting strips away everything but God himself, forcing me to lean on him rather than answers or outcomes. I pray more. I cling to him. And I find peace.
Look to the Dawn
So, how do we hold on when waiting feels endless? How can we see waiting as fruitful instead of an empty space between answered prayers?
Anchor yourself in God’s word. There is no better place to wait than immersed in God’s word. Psalm 130:5 reminds us, “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope.” Wait for him and hope in his word. Even when Scripture feels dry, keep reading. He still speaks.
Lean on the prayers of others. When your own prayers feel weak, let others plead for you. The Holy Spirit himself intercedes with groanings too deep for words (Romans 8:26). Ask friends to pray for you, bringing you before Jesus as you wait. You may need to borrow their faith for a while when yours is frail.
Learn from those before you. Read books and testimonies from believers who understand suffering, longing, and waiting. Their words can help steady you, reminding you that you are not alone. They have walked through darkness and found that God is faithful, even when he seems silent.
Corrie ten Boom, who endured unimaginable suffering in a Nazi concentration camp, knew what it was like to sit in the dark, unsure of what lay ahead. She captures what it means to endure in hope: “When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer.”
If you are going through a dark tunnel — waiting in silence — take heart. You are not forgotten. God is working in your waiting. He is preparing something greater than you can imagine.
The silence will not last forever. God is trustworthy. Morning is coming.
