In the fifth century B.C., the events of the book of Malachi came to a close, and the world entered into the intertestamental period. Between the close of Malachi and the beginning of Matthew, there were 400 years of God’s silence. I often wonder what it would’ve been like to live during that time, questioning where He was. Wondering how long it would be before He’d speak again, or before the promised One would come. I’m certain I’d become discouraged after so long, feeling like the world would never hear from Him again. I can get frustrated if I don’t hear God for a year, so I can only imagine how I’d feel after a dozen generations of silence.
During this time, God may not have been speaking in the same way, but He was far from inactive. He was orchestrating and intervening and moving in the earth, as He always does. Over the intertestamental period, many interesting things happened to prepare the world for what God was about to do—send the Messiah. One example is that the Greek language spread like wildfire, which set the stage for Paul’s teaching and the church of Acts.
There are times when God’s guidance is more something He’s doing, rather than something He’s speaking.
One of the things I love about living in the Middle East is often getting to see flocks of sheep with their shepherd. The shepherd is always silent, peaceful, completely at ease. He walks behind the sheep, where they can’t see him. They probably think they’re out there alone. Should they start to get off course, he gently walks up on the side they’re veering towards, in between them and the way they’re not supposed to go, pushing them in the other direction. Without even knowing or realizing, they get guided in the right way. The whole process is silent and subtle. So subtle it took me awhile observing this to understand what was taking place. Sometimes, when I see the flocks, I can’t even find the shepherd at first. I wait, watch, knowing he’s always there somewhere. In rugged terrain, he can be harder to spot—much like in our lives. Eventually, he always shows up. He guides the flock to fresh forage, and away from poisonous plants. Should a wolf come, he’d snuff out the threat before the sheep even knew they were in danger.
When Jesus reveals Himself to be the Good Shepherd of Psalm 23,[1] He says He knows His sheep, and they know Him. He knows every need we will ever have, and we know how faithful He is—but how quickly we forget when we don’t hear Him for a time.
You’ve likely heard the aphorism “a teacher is always silent during the test.”
Your training ground happens leading up to the test, when you’re hearing from your teacher constantly. If you’ve been listening and practicing, you’ll have what you need to be prepared for the test. Your confidence level during the trial will be a direct result of how well you listened prior to it, and how engrained the teaching is in you.
The problem some of us faced in school was an unexpected pop quiz. (Definitely not speaking from personal experience here, just hypothesizing about other people.) Do you remember the feeling of hearing there would be a sudden pop quiz, realizing you were underprepared, and regretting not listening better before? (Again, asking for a friend.) One of the beautiful and terrible things about walking with the Good Shepherd is that we’re warned on the front end about what to expect. We’re promised suffering,[2] we’re promised “trials of various kinds,”[3] there should be no shock when these things come our way. If we have knowledge of the scriptures and we trust what they say, we’ll cling to the word of God, knowing how desperately we’re going to need it for what’s coming. If you’re not in the testing now, you will be. At some point, you’ll experience trials of various kinds, some of us more than others. We are always either in the test or preparing for it.
When Elijah fled to a cave in Horeb, God told him to go out and stand on the mountain, because He was about to pass by.
Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. And after the wind came 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, the sound of a low whisper.[4]
This is the verse that made famous the phrase “a still, small voice.” There’s something fascinating about these few small words that have become a beacon for believers. Some translators rendered this phrase as “a low whisper,” others “a thin silence.” Closest to the original Hebrew may be “a sound of gentle stillness.” It couldn’t have been plain silence or stillness, because the word “sound” is there. It also couldn’t have been an ordinary sound or voice, because the words “still,” “gentle,” and “low” are there. It’s no surprise to me that authors and translators have such a hard time describing what Elijah heard that day, because it was something transcendental and heavenly. Many of us who’ve “heard” God can probably relate to how difficult it is to describe the experience, when it’s almost never an audible voice the way we’d hear another human. His voice is something we often have to remove distractions from and focus on, to first quiet ourselves and the noise in our lives, to pay attention to someone who’s not yelling.
But there is a promise that He will come, that He will guide us, that “the Lord is about to pass by.”
If you can make it through the wind and the earthquake, if you can endure the storms and the flames and the darts of the enemy, you will find Him. Fires will come your way, and they will feel like they’re going to swallow you whole— but “after the fire, a whisper.”
In between Jesus’ life and His resurrection, there was the crucifixion and the grave. There were three days of silence. Because the disciples did not believe the women who told them the Good News of His resurrection, this was a time of fear and grief for them. The two who walked the Emmaus road despairing were confronted with their doubt by the resurrected Jesus Himself. “How foolish you are, how slow to believe.”[5] They knew the story. They knew the Shepherd. They only doubted because they couldn’t see or hear Him at that particular moment. He had warned the disciples about this period of time in advance,[6] but they were quick to forget and doubt—just as we can be today.
I dare you to ask God what He’s doing during the days He’s “in the grave,” and the world seems to have lost its light. Not to ask in a rhetorical way, but to genuinely wait on His answer. Don’t lose heart as you walk your Emmaus road, waiting and wondering if He will return to you. You may not see Him now, but He promised you will; and you want to be found faithful when you do.
From David’s plea to God throughout the Psalms of “do not be silent,” to the bride of the Song of Songs crying out for her beloved not to hide His face, from Isaiah and Zephaniah’s questions of “how long, oh Lord?” to their prophecies that He will break His silence, God is making us confident in His guidance.
“In a little while you will see Me no more; but after a little while, you will see Me.”
—John 16:16
Autumn Crew is the Managing Editor of FAI Publishing. She lives in the Middle East and serves a number of disciple-making initiatives. She can be reached at autumncrew@faimission.org.
[1] John 10:11-18
[2] John 16:33
[3] James 1:2-3
[4] 1 Kings 19:11-12
[5] Luke 24:9-26
[6] John 16:16