When God is Silent

Dr. Bradford Reaves

The Gospel of Luke • Sermon • Submitted 6 months ago • Presented 5 months ago

Luke 1:5–7

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When God is Silent

There’s a heaviness in the air today. Can you feel it?

A weariness that goes beyond tiredness.

A soul-deep exhaustion from watching the world unravel.

Wars rage and rumors swirl.

Nations quake under floods, earthquakes, and fires.

Families fracture. Culture slides further into darkness.

And every day, evil seems to grow louder and bolder.

Maybe you feel it too. Not just out there in the headlines—though the headlines are heavy enough.

But here. In your own life.

When God is Silent

The ache that won’t go away.

The waiting that feels endless.

The long nights when you lie awake staring at the ceiling, praying prayers that seem to bounce back in silence.

Maybe you’ve whispered it in the quiet places where no one else can hear: “Where is God? Why hasn’t He spoken? Has He gone silent? Does He see me? Does He know what I’m carrying? Or has He forgotten me entirely?”

You’ve been faithful, haven’t you?

You’ve tried to do everything right. You’ve prayed. You’ve trusted.

You’ve waited. But the heavens still feel like brass.

And somewhere deep down, the enemy’s voice whispers:

“It’s over. God’s done with you. He’s moved on. He’s not coming this time.”

When God is Silent

But hear me today—hear it not just with your ears but with your heart:

The silence of God is not the absence of God.

The God who spoke light into the darkness in Genesis is still speaking.

The God who shattered 400 years of silence with the cry of a baby in Bethlehem is still moving.

Even when you can’t see it. Even when you can’t feel it.

Even when your prayers seem to vanish into thin air.

He remembers, He sees you, and He has not forgotten.

“Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.” (Isaiah 49:15–16)

The night may feel endless…But the sunrise is coming.

That’s where we find Israel just before Jesus came:

Luke 1:5 ESV

5 In the days of Herod, king of Judea, there was a priest named Zechariah, of the division of Abijah. And he had a wife from the daughters of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth.

Luke opens his gospel with these words: “In the days of Herod, king of Judea…” (Luke 1:5).

Eight simple words.

But for those who know Israel’s story, they drip with pain.

Not, in the days when Israel was triumphant over her enemies.

Not when Israel was strong in the Lord and mighty in Spirit. No.

These were dark days.

God had not spoken for 400 years.

Not since the prophet Malachi had cried out, “The sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings” (Malachi 4:2).

For four centuries, there was no prophet. No fresh word from heaven. Only silence.

Can you see it?

When God is Silent

Walk with me through the streets of Judea for a moment.

The city of Jerusalem bustles with activity, but there’s a heaviness in the air.

The temple still stands, magnificent under Herod’s reconstruction, but the glory has long departed.

The priests go through the motions—sacrifices are made, incense burns—but the Spirit of God does not descend like fire as in the days of Elijah.

Israel is a nation under foreign occupation.

Roman soldiers patrol her streets, their armor glinting in the sun, their banners flying high—a constant reminder that Israel is not free.

Taxes are heavy. Poverty is rampant. Justice is scarce.

When God is Silent

And spiritually? The people are divided and disillusioned.

The Pharisees multiply rules and traditions, convinced they can earn God’s favor through their strict legalism.

The Sadducees deny the supernatural altogether, content to keep their power under Roman rule.

The zealots sharpen their daggers in secret, dreaming of rebellion.

And the common people? Many live in quiet despair, wondering if the God of Abraham has abandoned them altogether.

When God is Silent

For generations, mothers have rocked their children to sleep with stories of Moses, Elijah, and David—heroes of a bygone age when God spoke and moved and delivered.

But now? Heaven seems silent.

Prayers rise like incense, but the people wonder if anyone hears.

Has God forgotten His covenant?

Has He turned His face away?

The darkness feels total.

And as the years stretch on, the promise of Malachi feels like a faint echo: “The sun of righteousness will rise…”

But when?

When God is Silent

Prayers went up, but they seemed to bounce off brass skies and fall back unanswered.

And yet… The silence of God is not the absence of God.

Behind the scenes, God was moving.

He was preparing the stage for the greatest act of redemption the world has ever known.

And maybe that is what your heart needs this morning: The night may feel endless, but the sunrise is coming.

God remembers.

He has a plan.

And even now, He is closer than you think.

I. The God Who Sees (v.5)

Luke doesn’t begin like a fairy tale.

There’s no “Once upon a time” or “Long ago in a galaxy far, far away.”

He grounds his story in history: “In the days of Herod, king of Judea…”

Herod the Great was a man of brilliance and brutality.

He rebuilt the temple in Jerusalem to stunning grandeur.

He constructed palaces, fortresses, and cities like Caesarea.

Even today, tourists marvel at his architectural genius.

But Herod’s brilliance was matched only by his cruelty.

He murdered his wife out of paranoia.

He executed his sons to secure his throne.

When he heard of a baby born in Bethlehem—a child called “the King of the Jews”—Herod ordered the slaughter of every male child under two in that region.

I. The God Who Sees (v.5)

Caesar Augustus said of him, “It is safer to be Herod’s pig than his son.”

These were days of oppression, corruption, and deep spiritual darkness. And for 400 years before this moment, God had been silent.

No prophet to call the people to repentance. No fresh word from heaven.

But don’t mistake God’s silence for His absence. While heaven seemed quiet, the stage was being set:

Alexander the Great had unified the known world under one language—Koine Greek—so the gospel could spread swiftly.

The Roman Empire had built roads and established the Pax Romana, making travel and communication easier than ever.

Even Herod’s temple would become the stage for God’s redemption plan.

I. The God Who Sees (v.5)

The darkness wasn’t wasted. It was preparing the way for the Light of the World.

Friend, maybe you’re in a season like that.

A season when heaven feels silent.

When your prayers seem unanswered. When it feels like God is a million miles away.

But remember: God does some of His best work in the dark.

Think about Joseph, sold into slavery and sitting in a prison cell.

Think about Moses, tending sheep in the wilderness for 40 years.

Think about David, hiding in a cave from Saul.

Think about the disciples, huddled in an upper room after the crucifixion, sure that all was lost.

I. The God Who Sees (v.5)

The silence of God is not the stillness of God.

The darkness you’re walking through might be the soil where He’s planting something new.

Let me tell you the story of a man who knew that silence… and discovered that God was anything but still.

Alexander Ogorodnikov grew up in the former Soviet Union during a time when the Communist regime sought to eradicate all traces of Christianity.

His father was a loyal member of the Communist Party.

His grandmother, however, secretly baptized him as a baby—an act of quiet rebellion in a land where faith was a death sentence.

I. The God Who Sees (v.5)

After the Bolsheviks seized power, they declared war on God.

They weren’t just atheists—they were God-haters.

Churches were destroyed.

Priests, monks, and nuns were murdered in unspeakable ways. Witnesses said that as they buried Christians alive, they could hear the muffled sound of hymns rising from the earth—like the ground itself was worshiping.

As a young man, Alexander was raised an atheist, but deep questions began to stir in his soul.

In college, his search for truth led him to Christ.

That decision cost him everything. He was expelled from school, arrested, and eventually sent to a Soviet gulag—a frozen prison camp near Siberia.

I. The God Who Sees (v.5)

In the gulag, they took away his Bible and his cross.

Guards mocked him, beat him, and threw him into a punishment cell designed to kill him with cold.

He would sit there shivering in flimsy clothes as hypothermia crept in.

And in his despair, Alexander prayed, “Lord, I can’t take this anymore. Have You forgotten me? Are You still there?”

Silence.

But what Alexander didn’t know was that God was moving.

Half a world away, Christians began to hear of his plight.

A Christian journalist named Dan Wooding broadcast his story on TV and urged believers to pray.

Letters poured in by the thousands—so many that Soviet guards brought Alexander into a room to show him the sacks of mail.

I. The God Who Sees (v.5)

They wouldn’t let him read a single letter. But as he stared at those sacks, something broke inside him.

“People care… I’m not forgotten.”

The guards threw him back into the freezing cell to die.

But then something miraculous happened.

As he lay there, body trembling and near death, Alexander felt warmth flood through him.

He said it was as if invisible arms wrapped around his frail frame—a comforter of divine love.

He didn’t know it, but somewhere in America, a believer had awakened in the middle of the night, burdened to pray for him.

This happened not once, but multiple times.

God’s Spirit was moving.

Even in the silence.

Even in the Siberian cold.

Even when Alexander thought all hope was lost.

I. The God Who Sees (v.5)

Years later, he told Wooding over coffee: “They tried to freeze me to death. But God… He held me. He wrapped His arms around me every time. He never left me—not for a moment.”

Friend, the silence of God is not the stillness of God.

He is nearer than you know.

He has not forgotten you.

He has not forsaken you.

And even in the coldest prison cell of your life, He can wrap His arms around you and whisper, “I am here.”

II. The God Who Sees the Broken (vv.6–7)

Luke 1:6–7 ESV

6 And they were both righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statutes of the Lord. 7 But they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were advanced in years.

In this dark and dangerous world, Luke introduces us to a quiet, godly couple: Zechariah and Elizabeth.

Luke tells us they were “righteous in the sight of God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statutes of the Lord” (Luke 1:6).

And yet… they were childless.

II. The God Who Sees the Broken (vv.6–7)

In Jewish culture, barrenness carried deep shame.

People whispered behind closed doors: “They must have sinned. God must be punishing them.”

But Luke makes it clear: their suffering wasn’t because of sin.

Sometimes we suffer not because God is angry but because He’s preparing something greater.

Maybe you came in today carrying a burden like theirs:

A broken heart.

A shattered dream.

A long-unanswered prayer.

A diagnosis you weren’t ready for.

A relationship you can’t seem to mend.

II. The God Who Sees the Broken (vv.6–7)

Believer, hear me: God remembers. God is faithful. He is moving even when you cannot see it. Their names tell the story:

Zechariah means “The Lord remembers.”

Elizabeth means “My God is an oath.”

God had not forgotten them. And He has not forgotten you.

Isaiah 49:15–16 ESV

15 “Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. 16 Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are continually before me.

Psalm 56:8 ESV

8 You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?

III. The God Who Answers in His Time (vv.8–10)

Zechariah and Elizabeth were in the winter of their lives.

Childless. Waiting. Hoping against hope.

And then… in God’s perfect timing, an angel appeared. “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard, and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call his name John.” (Luke 1:13)

The silence of 400 years was shattered with a single angelic announcement.

Friend, maybe you feel like heaven is silent in your life.

Maybe your prayers feel like they bounce off the ceiling.

III. The God Who Answers in His Time (vv.8–10)

But listen: Just because God hasn’t answered yet doesn’t mean He hasn’t heard you, and just because He’s silent doesn’t mean He’s absent.

God’s delays are not His denials.

His timing is perfect, and when He moves, everything changes.

But maybe you’re here today and the waiting has broken something in you.

You’ve prayed. You’ve believed.

You’ve clung to God in the dark… but the silence has become deafening.

Let me tell you about a young man named Hien Pham, a passionate Christian in Vietnam during the 1970s.

III. The God Who Answers in His Time (vv.8–10)

When the Communists took over, Hien was arrested and imprisoned for his faith.

Day after day, he endured their attempts to brainwash him—feeding him nothing but Communist propaganda and forbidding him to read Scripture.

After years of this, Hien began to break under the pressure.

“Maybe I’ve been lied to,” he thought.

“Maybe God doesn’t exist. Maybe my life has been built on a lie.”

Finally, he decided: “Tomorrow, I won’t pray. Tomorrow, I’ll stop thinking about God altogether.”

III. The God Who Answers in His Time (vv.8–10)

The next morning, Hien was assigned the most degrading task in the prison: cleaning the latrines.

As he worked, his eye caught a scrap of paper with English words on it—something he hadn’t seen in years.

He snatched it up, washed it off, and tucked it into his pocket.

That night, under his mosquito net, Hien pulled out a flashlight and read the words on that filthy scrap of paper.

At the top it said: “Romans, Chapter 8.” His hands trembled as he read:

“We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose… What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?… Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?… No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.” (Romans 8:28, 31, 35, 37)

III. The God Who Answers in His Time (vv.8–10)

Hien began to weep.

“God, you will not let me go, even when I’m ready to let go of myself.”

On the very day he had determined to stop praying,

God spoke through a scrap of toilet paper used by the commander of his prison.

The next day, Hien asked to clean the latrines again.

And again. And again.

He discovered that the prison guards were using pages of a Bible as toilet paper.

Each day, Hien rescued those pages, washed them, and read them at night.

God’s Word came to him in the most unlikely place—just enough to keep his faith alive.

III. The God Who Answers in His Time (vv.8–10)

Years later, Hien escaped Vietnam in a miraculous journey that could only have been orchestrated by God Himself.

And today, he’s a businessman in America, forever grateful to the God who never let him go.

If God can move in the life of a forgotten prisoner in Vietnam…

He can move in your life too.

IV. The God Who Awakens the Dead (Ezekiel 37)

Let’s pause and remember Ezekiel’s vision of the dry bones: “The hand of the Lord was upon me… and He set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. And He said to me, ‘Son of man, can these bones live?’ I answered, ‘O Lord God, You know.’” (Ezekiel 37:1,3)

The valley was full of death—no life, no hope, no future. But God told Ezekiel to speak. And as he prophesied, the Spirit of God swept through the valley.

Bone came to bone. Flesh covered sinew. Breath filled lungs.

What was dead became alive. Friend, that same Spirit is moving in this place today.

You are not beyond His reach.

You are not too broken.

Your fire is not too far gone.

Hear Him say: “Dry bones, live. Child, come alive again.”