When God is Silent-Prayers Without Words

Some years ago, a friend admitted to me that she couldn’t pray. She is not alone. Some of the godliest people have found themselves at a loss for words in the presence of God. How do we pray when we have no words?

John Koessler's latest book, On Things Above: The Earthly Importance of Heavenly Reality, is now available. You can get it from Amazon. 

Dr. John Koessler is an award-winning writer and retired faculty emeritus of Moody Bible Institute. John writes the Practical Theology column for Today in the Word and a monthly column on prayer for Mature Living. He is the author of 16 books. His latest book , When God is Silent, is published by Lexham Press. You can learn more about John at https://www.johnkoessler.com.

Transcript

Some years ago, a friend admitted to me that she couldn’t pray. “I don’t know why,” she said. “But it’s like choking.” She wrote to me recently and said that she still struggles. “I have read so much on prayer, and it still sticks in my throat and comes out halting and inadequate.” She is not alone. Some of the godliest people have found themselves at a loss for words in the presence of God.

Sometimes, their silence is the silence of awe. When Daniel the prophet was an old man in his eighties, he had a vision that puzzled him. After fasting for three weeks, he encountered a figure on the banks of the river Tigris dressed in white linen with a belt of gold. His appearance shown like lightning, and his eyes were like flaming torches. Daniel’s companions, who could not see the vision but felt his presence, fled in terror. Daniel was so overcome by the sight that he fainted. The heavenly being reached out to touch Daniel and spoke words of encouragement. As Daniel slowly rose, first on his hands and knees and then with trembling on his feet, the man assured him that his prayers had been heard. He had come to explain the vision. “While he was saying this to me,” Daniel later wrote, “I bowed with my face toward the ground and was speechless” (Daniel 10:15). When the being touched Daniel’s lips, he was finally able to speak. “I am overcome with anguish because of the vision, my lord, and I feel very weak,” he said. “How can I, your servant, talk with you, my lord? My strength is gone and I can hardly breathe” (Daniel 10:16–17). It is doubtful that many if any of us, have had an experience like Daniel’s. But we have all had moments of awe that took our breath away. 

Silence is a common reaction of those who are perplexed or astonished. In prayer, we may come to God but find ourselves so confounded that we that we are unable to speak. Sometimes this is because we have realized something about God that overwhelms us. Or, as in Job’s case, by interacting with God, we suddenly realize something about ourselves that leaves us dumbfounded. It may be that we finally understand the flaw in our complaint or recognize the gravity of our fallenness. God’s reply to Job’s extensive complaint stunned the patriarch into silence. Job’s initial reaction was to say, “I am unworthy—how can I reply to you? I put my hand over my mouth. I spoke once, but I have no answer—twice, but I will say no more” (Job 40:4–5). 

Silence is the primary disposition of the learner. Learning can involve speaking, but it usually begins with listening, and listening demands silence from us. In the Old Testament, sacred ceremonies sometimes concluded with a call for silence on the part of God’s people (Deuteronomy 27:9; Nehemiah 8:11). The prophets called for silence as divine judgment approached (Habakkuk 2:20; Zephaniah 1:7; Zechariah 2:13). According to Revelation 8:1, there is even silence in heaven.

Silence is not the usual state of those who pray. Indeed, it seems to be the very antithesis of prayer. Yet silence in God’s presence does not have to be bad. Ecclesiastes 3:7 tells us that there is a time to be silent and a time to speak. The same writer counsels those who go to the house of God to be measured in their words: “Guard your steps when you go to the house of God. Go near to listen rather than to offer the sacrifice of fools, who do not know that they do wrong. Do not be quick with your mouth, do not be hasty in your heart to utter anything before God. God is in heaven and you are on earth, so let your words be few” (Ecclesiastes 5:1–2). 

There is more going on here than a warning about our deportment or the formal way we address God in prayer. He is not merely saying, “Mind your manners.” We are warned that when we approach God, we must have a sense of God’s presence as well as a sense of our place before him. It is easy to be careless in our worship and our praying. We are absent-minded, too quick to offer empty words and cheap promises. This is because we are speaking out of habit. We are saying the things we have always said without considering whether we actually mean them.

When the writer of Ecclesiastes warns about the danger of making rash vows, he is talking about more than the temptation to make promises that we cannot keep. There is good reason to tread carefully when we approach God. It is not because he is irascible and easily angered. We all know hypersensitive people before whom we must weigh our words. We walk on eggshells whenever we talk to them because we are not sure how they will respond. This is not the issue with God; the problem is with us. We are the ones who are flighty and rash. We take God for granted. We babble and chatter because we feel we must say something but have not thought about what we ought to say. We are not self-aware, nor are we much aware of God either.

The warning of Ecclesiastes 5:1-2 does not minimize the importance of words but the opposite. It assumes their gravity. The writer of Ecclesiastes warns us to be sparing in our words because words mean something. If there is a danger in thoughtless prayer, it is that God might take us at our word and deal with us as we have asked. It is no accident that the Hebrew term for “word” can also be translated “deed.” God is not cavalier about the words he chooses. He means what he says. There are no empty words with God. It is reasonable that he should expect the same from us.

We often mistake silence for emptiness, and we are afraid of emptiness. That is why we tend to chatter when there is a prolonged break in a conversation. We feel compelled to fill the void with something. Anything. God views silence differently. God is comfortable with his own silence. He is no chatterbox. There is much that God has said. There is even more that he has not. God is equally comfortable with our silence; sometimes, he prefers it.

There are times when we have no words to offer God, only our strangled cries of anguish. The pain we feel is so great that it drives all thoughts from our minds. Even if we tried, we would not be able to formulate the sentences. Our groans are not metaphorical; they are literal. At other times, it is because we do not know what to say. We are confounded. We only know how we feel. Fortunately, we are not limited to words when it comes to prayer. What we are unable to say in a sentence can be expressed in a sob or a moan. The frequency with which Scripture mentions tears proves that they really are (as the old song declares) “a language that God understands.” The One who wept at the tomb of Lazarus will not look down on our groans, sighs, and tears.

If you cannot find the words, then speak to God in sighs. If sighs are not enough, then offer up your cries and groans instead. Groans are a language that God understands, too. God understands groans because it is a language that he speaks. According to Romans 8:26, “The Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.” Paul says that the Spirit does this because we do not know what to say. When we find ourselves at a loss for words in God’s presence, we can take comfort in the knowledge that the Spirit is praying for us.

According to Romans 8:27, the Spirit functions not only as our intercessor but as our proxy. When we don’t know how to pray, he takes the deep desires of our hearts and reframes them in a way that corresponds with the Father’s will. In this way, the Spirit’s wordless intercession also becomes our prayer. As the Spirit prays for the believer, the believer also prays through the Spirit. The Spirit is not alone in his work. Paul goes on in this chapter to point out that Jesus Christ is “at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us” (Romans 8:34). 

We are tempted to think of our prayers as feeble things. They are only a puff of breath filled with the confused longings of our hearts. We do not know what to say. We are not sure whether God will give us what we want. But Paul paints a very different picture of what is happening. He removes the veil of our struggle to reveal a convergence of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit working together not only in response to our prayers but to help us pray.

Silence seems incompatible with prayer. But lovers know that they do not need to talk all the time to enjoy each other’s company. Silence may signal confusion, but it can also be a mark of contentment. As the hymn writer Isaac Watts observed in his paraphrase of Psalm 23:

The sure provisions of my God

attend me all my days;

oh, may your house be mine abode,

and all my work be praise.

There would I find a settled rest,

while others go and come;

no more a stranger, nor a guest,

but like a child at home.

If you don’t know what to say when you come into God’s presence, then say nothing. You are neither a stranger nor a guest. You are God’s child. And because of that, you are always welcome.