When life feels chaotic and God seems quiet, it’s easy to wonder where He is, or if He’s listening at all. Maybe you’ve prayed, waited, trusted, and hoped, but the silence remains. And in that silence, the questions get louder: How long do I have to wait? Why is this happening? Where is God in this?
Those aren’t new questions. In fact, they’re ancient ones.
Centuries ago, a prophet named Habakkuk looked at the world around him and saw injustice, corruption, and pain. He brought his raw, honest questions straight to God – not with polished language or simple faith, but with frustration and grief. The surprising thing? God invited the conversation. And through it, He showed us how to live by faith when we don’t have answers.
This short Old Testament book is a lifeline for anyone walking through seasons of spiritual silence. It reminds us that even when God seems quiet, He isn’t absent. He’s still working. Still listening. Still worthy of our trust.
When God is silent, it doesn’t mean He’s absent
Habakkuk opens with a cry many of us have prayed: “How long, Lord, must I call for help, but you do not listen?” (Habakkuk 1:2). He sees violence, suffering, and injustice, and he can’t understand why God allows it.
The temptation in seasons like this is to assume that silence equals inaction. That if God isn’t answering in the way we expect, He must not be doing anything at all. But God replies, “I am doing a work in your days that you would not believe if told” (1:5).
That statement doesn’t always make the silence easier, but it reframes it. God is at work even when we can’t see it. His timing is different. His vision is longer. And His ways are higher.
Learning to live by faith in the silence
There’s a line in the book that becomes the heartbeat of the whole message: “The righteous shall live by faith” (2:4). In other words, those who walk with God must learn to trust Him, even when He doesn’t seem to be speaking.
But what does that actually look like?
First, it means giving ourselves permission to be honest with God. Faith isn’t the absence of questions; it’s the courage to bring those questions to God rather than turning away from Him. The Bible calls this lament: a form of prayer that holds sorrow and trust in tension. It’s not weakness. It’s worship through pain. And it’s a path God welcomes.
It also means reminding ourselves who God is. That’s what changed Habakkuk’s heart – not a quick resolution to his circumstances, but a fresh view of God’s character. He remembered that God is eternal, just, holy, and sovereign. He remembered that God sees the whole story, not just the moment we’re in. That kind of remembering can break through even the thickest silence.
Faith in the silence also looks like waiting, but actively, not passively. Trusting that God is still working, even when the timeline stretches longer than we hoped. Like a trapeze artist waiting midair for the catcher’s hands, we let go without always knowing when or how we’ll be caught. But we trust that we will be.
And finally, faith in the silence doesn’t guarantee that everything around us will be okay. It doesn’t tie a bow on grief or remove the ache of waiting. But it does change something in us. Faith makes us okay. It gives us peace that doesn’t come from answers, but from presence. From knowing that even when God is silent, He is still near.
How we often respond, and why it doesn’t help
God also offers a warning in Habakkuk 2. When we don’t hear from Him, we’re often tempted to take control, compromise, numb ourselves, exhaust ourselves trying harder, or fill the silence with distraction. But none of those responses lead to peace. They may feel easier in the moment, but they ultimately lead us away from the very connection we’re longing for.
Instead, God invites us to slow down, trust deeply, and return to Him. To choose the quiet posture of faith rather than the frantic noise of control. It’s not easy, but it’s the path that leads to transformation.
You’re not the only one asking
If you’ve ever wondered why God is silent, you’re in good company. Habakkuk asked. Job asked. David asked. Even Jesus, hanging on the cross, cried out, “My God, why have you forsaken me?”
And yet, in each of those moments, God was closer than anyone realized.
That’s the invitation in the silence: not to give up, but to lean in. To bring your questions, your hurt, your doubts, and your hope to the One who holds it all. To wait for the strong hands of the catcher. And to discover, like Habakkuk did, that silence isn’t the end of the story.
It may be the beginning of a deeper one.
Go deeper
Watch the full Even in the Silence sermon series, and learn more about how faith can grow even when it feels like God is silent.
Plan a visit
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