To the Silent Sufferers

One of the things that often adds to the pain of suffering is those times when you must do so silently. On the outside, you go about your days and your  duties as if nothing is wrong, because for whatever reason, you cannot share your grief. Or, perhaps, the time for grieving has passed--at least in the minds of those around you--and you fear that others will grow weary of hearing the same words, the same the same questions, the same struggle. And so you soldier on. You continue walking. But it is a lonely road.

Maybe you must remain silent to protect the reputation of another. Maybe the situation is sensitive and requires privacy. Maybe you’ve timidly shared your struggle only to have a trust--or your heart--broken, so you keep your pain close to the broken places.

To those who silently struggle, suffer, grieve, wait, long, hope, endure--I just want you to know tonight that you are seen. Every silent sufferer knows some of your pain. You are more connected to others than it may seem. Reach out where you can. Share what you can. But when silence feels like your closest companion, when you feel misunderstood, lonely, and unknown--in those times and in all the times in-between--know that your Maker is closer than your breath.  He sees. He knows. He cares.

And I know that when you’re walking the hard and lonely roads, sometimes those truths can seem so vague and distant. But it’s also on those same roads that we see how real they are. I have often resisted prayer only to find upon beginning that prayer was what I needed all along. With my “amen” comes renewed hope and courage and the reminder of the words to the old hymn, “O what peace we often forfeit/ O what needless pain we bear/ All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer!” Our Father really is with us, more ready to hear our prayers than we are to pray.

Silent Sufferer, be encouraged by this: you don't have to keep silent with God. In fact, He invites all the words and all the noise you want to bring him.