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The Bellowing Cry of Silence








This unfiltered silence of the unknown has taken on a bellowing cry of its own. The unanswered questions in my mind have become a kaleidoscope.  

And with each turn, the different shades of gray have no answers.  My flesh, in its uncomfortable state of the untold, seeps tears of its own. 

All the while my heart and soul is trusting the Lord on a whole new level  in this new normal we are living.



I must admit, when this plague surfaced its ghastly head, I started this journey strong. The unknown had no hold on me. 

Porch sitting became my place of solace.  No fear.  No tears.  My sword raised high, the battle began. I dove

head first into the word of my Jesus. I soaked in sermon after sermon. I sang my songs of worship from the

noiseless perch of my porch: off key.  And I listened for the voice, the only voice, who could give me solid peace.


 Jesus.


Day after day, the moment my eyes would open, I took the new familiar steps from my bed to my coffee pot. 

And then to my newest Jesus spot for our morning conversation.  Fifty plus days later and my sword looks to have dropped

a few inches. In the heaviness of circumstances surrounding us all, my thoughts are all over the place.  I have 

my moments when I simply can not string my words together.  And my prayers have declined to one word......


        Jesus. 


No comprehendible phrases can my mouth complete. "Is this what battle weary feels like?" I whisper to my Jesus.  

And the turning of the kaleidoscope has become mute. I allow my mind to drift back to when Moses became weary and his arms were held up during battle. 

My request is a murmur.. " hold my arms up just a bit longer, please."  Tears form and fall. 

My soul tenderly leans into my spirit listening for anything other than the bellowing cry of silence. 

" It did not take this long for Jericho to fall."  I tell myself.  My spiritual feet in their callous filled dusty appearance scream for a reprieve. 

I continue to walk. 

The silence is deafening. 


I am not okay with the uncertainty. I am not okay with the unknown of what the future normal will be. I am not okay with the uncomfortable

heaviness that has overtaken wedges of my daily life. I am not okay with this strange cry of silence. And that's okay. 

It's okay to not be okay. 

There is no shame in uncertainty. 

There is no shame in the unknown. 

There is no shame in weariness. 

But there is hope. 


Psalm 130:5 
I wait for the Lord, my souls waits, 
And in His word I do hope. 


Hope is what gives the bellowing cry of silence a voice.  It renounces those things wanting to undo what has already been done. 

It declares victory before the shofar horn is heard in the distance.  It holds fatiguing arms up in battle. It renews the bottoms of dusty calloused marching feet. 

Hope is not merely a desire or wishful thinking.  Hope is a confident expectation that a change will take place; something will happen. 

Hope is the anchoring voice in the bellowing cry of silence. 


As my soul continues to lean into my spirit, I will press into the bellowing cry of silence; trusting.

I will praise my Jesus. 

More.  And.  More.  




Psalm 71:14
As for me, I will always have hope; I will praise you more and more. 








































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