06/06/2026
Beautifully written and worth the time to read. 🌷
Have you ever noticed that a song is made up of more than just the notes?
We tend to think the important part is the sound. The melody. The chorus. The big moments everyone remembers. But if you took away every pause, every rest, every bit of silence between the notes, the song would become noise. The spaces matter. In fact, the spaces are part of what make the music beautiful.
I think life is a little like that.
Most of us love the "note" seasons. The seasons when prayers are being answered, plans are coming together, doors are opening, and it feels like God is moving in obvious ways. We like the mountaintops. We like the victories. We like the moments where we can clearly point and say, "Look what God is doing."
The hard part comes when God seems quiet.
Maybe you've been praying about something for months. Maybe years. Maybe you are waiting for healing, waiting for direction, waiting for a relationship to mend, waiting for an opportunity, waiting for a prodigal to come home, waiting for an answer that feels like it should have arrived a long time ago.
And in that waiting, it can feel as though the music has stopped.
But what if it hasn't?
What if the silence is not evidence that God has walked away? What if the pause is actually part of the song?
A composer doesn't put rests into music because they forgot what comes next. They put them there on purpose. Every pause has meaning. Every space creates anticipation. Every moment of silence prepares the listener for what comes after.
Sometimes we treat God as though He has misplaced our file somewhere in heaven. As if Gabriel accidentally slid it behind a cabinet and now everyone is trying to figure out where it went.
"Has anyone seen Erica's prayer request?"
"No, but I found three from 1997 and someone's missing car keys."
That is not how God works.
The God who holds the universe together is not pacing around heaven saying, "Oh dear. I completely forgot about that one."
Isaiah reminds us, "Behold, the Lord's hand is not shortened, that it cannot save, or his ear dull, that it cannot hear" (Isaiah 59:1, ESV).
He hears. He knows. He remembers.
Sometimes the silence is not absence. Sometimes it is preparation.
Think about Joseph sitting in prison. David running from Saul. Abraham waiting for a son. The disciples waiting between the cross and the resurrection. Some of the most important chapters in Scripture happened in what felt like the space between the notes.
The waiting seasons are rarely comfortable. If we're being honest, most of us would prefer God speed things up a little. Or a lot. Or immediately. We like microwave answers. God often seems more interested in crockpot solutions.
But over and over in Scripture, God proves that He is still working when we cannot hear the music.
So if you find yourself in a season that feels quiet, don't assume the song is over. Don't assume God has forgotten you. Don't assume nothing is happening.
Sometimes the most beautiful part of the music is the space between the notes.
And sometimes, years later, you look back and realize that what felt like silence was actually God holding the entire song together.
