Many times, maybe even most of the time, God does not meet our expectations. And usually, that turns out to be a good thing.
So often in prayer, we come to God with expectations: things that we want God to do, places where we hope God will act, situations that we feel need God’s attention. This is not a bad thing in and of itself, of course—unless the only thing we do in prayer is invite God into the specific contexts we have identified, and into the particular places we have carved out for God. Many of us must admit that the vast majority of our prayer consists of talking to God.
Petition certainly is an important form of prayer, but it cannot be the only form. Surely, the spiritual discipline of prayer is also about allowing ourselves to be drawn into God’s will and plans for us: into the situations God has identified as needing our attention, the places God hopes we will act. Surely, prayer also includes the disposition of patience, openness, courage and trust to let God lead the way. Surely, prayer also includes silence.
Now to Elijah.
In this moment in Elijah’s story, Elijah is vulnerable and frightened, and on the run. The powers that be seek his life, and he is sure he has been abandoned. He does not know what the future holds, he does not know what to do, and he is desperately waiting for God to show up. I know what that feels like, and so do you.
Elijah does not wait for God in vain. After providing both sustenance and direction, God does show up, but not in the way that Elijah is expecting him: not with a dramatic entrance, an earth-shattering announcement, or an awe-inspiring vision.
No, God comes to Elijah in one of the most memorable and striking phrases in all of Scripture: God comes to Elijah in a sound of sheer silence.
Silence from God usually implies absence; at least, that’s how we usually take it—we assume it’s the lack of an answer, the lack of a response; it’s being ignored, unheard. Silence from God is bad. But in this passage, God shows us that silence can be full; in silence, there is presence, and there is hope.
In silence, all of our senses are awakened. In silence, you can hear even the softest breathing; you can feel a heartbeat; your body can sense the presence of another nearby. In silence, you are still, embraced in the Spirit of God.
Out of the silence, God promises a future to Elijah, and to Israel. God promises that God will abide, God will be faithful. Out of the silence of our own prayer life, God comes to us as well, and reminds us that God abides, and God is faithful.
In our prayer today, may we, too, enter into the silence, trusting that in the silence, God comes.
Rev. Kristin Johnston Largen, PhD
President
Wartburg Theological Seminary