Daily Reflections From God's Word

Tag: Silence

  • Between the Cross and the Empty Tomb

    “And they returned and prepared spices and ointments, and rested the Sabbath day according to the commandment.” – Luke 23:56 (NKJV)

    Holy Saturday is the quiet day. It doesn’t carry the brutal weight of Friday or the joyful triumph of Sunday. It sits in between—still, sorrowful, and unsure.

    It was a day of rest, yes, but also of confusion. The disciples had seen their Master die. Their hopes had been nailed to a Roman cross. And now? Nothing. No voice from Heaven. No angelic announcement. Just a sealed tomb and a shattered heart.

    But they still rested.

    They still honored the Sabbath. They still obeyed. Luke’s Gospel says they “rested… according to the commandment.” Even when the world didn’t make sense. Even when their faith was gasping for breath.

    That’s the beauty of the day in between. It teaches us how to wait. It invites us to trust in silence. It challenges us to worship when we don’t understand.

    Because God doesn’t stop being God just because we can’t feel Him.

    There are times in life when the waiting is long, and the silence is deafening.

    Prayers go unanswered.

    Dreams die.

    Doors close.

    It feels like hope itself has been buried.

    But just because you can’t hear God doesn’t mean He isn’t speaking. Just because you can’t see Him doesn’t mean He’s not moving.God was doing His greatest work between the crucifixion and the resurrection.

    So today, on this Holy Saturday, ask yourself:

    Can I still trust when I don’t understand?

    Can I still worship when I don’t feel a thing?

    Can I still rest, knowing that God is faithful—even in silence?

    Hold on, friend. Sunday is coming.

  • When God Whispers Through the Noise

    “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10, NKJV)

    Stillness.

    It feels almost unnatural in today’s world, doesn’t it? We wear busyness like a badge of honor, convinced that our value is measured by how much we can cram into a day. The world around us is loud — opinions, pressures, expectations, fears. Silence feels uncomfortable, like something is wrong.

    But then we come to the command in Psalm 46:10: “Be still, and know that I am God.”

    Notice, it’s not a suggestion. It’s not a comfort phrase. It’s a command from the mouth of the Almighty. He is not asking us to be still because He needs quiet — He’s asking because we do.

    Being still is not the absence of activity; it’s the presence of intentional trust. It’s stepping back from the frantic pace of life and remembering who is really in control.

    This takes me to one of my favorite passages — 1 Kings 19:11-12. Elijah, the bold prophet of God, finds himself worn out, hiding in a cave. Fearful. Burned out. He had seen the fire of God fall from heaven, witnessed miracles beyond imagination, but now? He’s alone and desperate for God to speak.

    And God does speak. But not in the way Elijah (or we) might expect.

    “Then He said, ‘Go out, and stand on the mountain before the Lord.’ And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice.” (1 Kings 19:11-12, NKJV)

    God could have spoken through the storm. Through the earthquake. Through the fire. But He chose the whisper.

    Why?

    Because whispers draw us close. Whispers require attentiveness. You can hear a shout from across a field, but a whisper?

    You have to lean in.

    Focus.

    Quiet yourself.

    What if the breakthrough we’ve been begging God for is already there, tucked inside His quiet whisper? What if, in the chaos of our own making, we’ve been missing His gentle call to trust Him more deeply?Here’s the hard part: stillness feels risky. It feels like surrendering control (because it is). But in that surrender, we discover the deep, unshakeable knowledge that He is God. Sovereign over the winds, the earthquakes, the fires — and yes, even the silences.

    Let me ask you this, and I’d love to hear your reflections:

    What does “being still” practically look like in your life today?

    And maybe, just maybe, is there a whisper from God you’ve been too busy to hear?

    Let’s encourage each other in the comments below. We’re all learning to listen.