Silence can sometimes be deafening. The absence of noise. Sometimes it is exiting a room full of noise into the quiet that it hits you. You are more aware of the quiet, of the silence. Walking out of a happy and chatty classroom this morning and reaching the quiet of my car the silence was distinct and noticeable.
Silence. Loud in its absence of noise.
Imagine then the silence from God for 400 years. Generations growing up not hearing the Word of God. No sign, no word, no communication. The challenge of keeping the faith by remembering the testimonies of their forefathers but without a personal experience themselves. For us the transition from Old Testament to New Testament is a mere page, blank except for the words “New Testament”. It doesn’t convey at all the significance of those 400 years of silence.
Silence from God.
But then after 400 years of silence, the cry of a baby heralded a new era, a new day. God with us – Emmanuel. Silence broken. God close. God had moved into the neighbourhood.
Our progression through Advent – waiting, expectant, hopeful – for Christmas, reminds us of a people, a world who waited and waited for God to fulfil His promises, His prophesies. Christmas reminds us that no matter the wait we endure God is true to His promises and fulfils them. We are reminded of what He has already done and what He has promised to do.
Christmas gives us hope. It means that if we feel life has us placed on a blank page – waiting for silence to be broken – we can know that God will fulfil every promise to us.
“For all of God’s promises have been fulfilled in Christ with a resounding “Yes!” And through Christ, our “Amen” (which means “Yes”) ascends to God for his glory.” (2 Corinthians 1:20)
“But as for me, I will watch expectantly for the Lord; I will wait for the God of my salvation. My God will hear me.” (Micah 7:7)
Hang in there. The page might be turning.
Blue Skies & Lollipops 