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It’s 2:20 in the morning on Christmas Day.

I can’t sleep.

It’s probably because I consumed my weight in sugar and chip dip tonight. I need to work out; I have a bridesmaids dress to fit into.

I’m restless. A myriad of thoughts are coursing through my brain, knocking on the door of my soul. Questions, so many questions, prod my heart. Worries scratch at my spirit. I am weary.

But somehow, there’s strength. Just enough strength.

My friend confided in me today. What do I do when it feels like He’s just not there? When it seems like He’s letting me down? When I feel disappointed? Oh, sister. I’m not quite sure what we’re supposed to do.

But it reminds me of the four hundred years of silence in the Bible. Not a few days. Or months. Or years. Centuries of nothing from Him. Not a word, not a prophecy. Utter silence. What was God possibly doing during those years? He’s God. Couldn’t He…speed things up? What could He be doing that needed four HUNDRED years before His Son would come?

I don’t know.

But His Son did come. And He came with a mighty victory. A beautiful promise, an everlasting Light. His coming was no small matter. It was life-saving and heart-moving. It was earth-shattering and death-defying. Beautifully humble and awesomely glorious.

Our God came, and suddenly, those four hundred years didn’t seem so long. They don’t really matter anymore. What matters is that just because He’s silent doesn’t mean He’s stopped. In this case, the silence indicated the Messiah’s coming was so near.

So, my dear friend, I would say to rejoice anxiously in the silence.

Because when God finally breaks silence, it will be no small matter.

What fear we felt in the silent age,
Four hundred years, can He be found?
Then broken by a baby’s cry
Rejoice in the hallowed manger ground

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