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When Silence Holds the Promise: The Journey of Everlasting Joy in the Waiting Seasons

The wind was dry that day, scratching across Sarah’s doorway like an unwelcome guest. The land had forgotten rain, and so had her heart. Her flour jar echoed with emptiness. The days blurred together — another sunrise, another waiting.

That’s when Elijah appeared. Not with rainclouds, not with an overflowing pantry, but with a request and a promise.

“Do not be afraid… make me a small loaf first… for this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord sends rain…” (1 Kings 17:13–14)

It wasn’t the end of the drought that lifted her heart — it was the presence of God in her doorway. She realized she had never been truly stuck; she had been held. And in that moment, the Journey of Everlasting Joy — that deep, unshakable awareness of God’s nearness — began to settle into her mind, heart, and soul.

Simeon’s Long Watch

Decades later in Jerusalem, another heart waited — Simeon’s. The Spirit had told him he would not see death until his eyes beheld the Messiah (Luke 2:25–32). Every day he watched the temple doors. No sign. No movement. No change.

Until the moment everything changed. Mary and Joseph entered carrying Jesus, and Simeon’s lifetime of “silence” became the stage for God’s perfect timing. The promise had been alive all along.

The God Who Searches and Runs

Jesus would later tell of a shepherd who left ninety-nine sheep to find the one who wandered (Luke 15:4–7). That lost sheep, tangled in the thorns, might have thought it was stuck — but the shepherd called that found.

He told another story of a son who squandered everything, trudging home rehearsing apologies. The father didn’t wait for him to reach the porch — he ran to him (Luke 15:11–32).

These are not stories of people finding their own way; they are stories of God closing the distance.

Blessed Hunger

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says,

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.” (Matthew 5:6)

Hunger itself is a blessing. It means the soul still knows what it longs for. Feeling spiritually “empty” does not mean the pantry of God’s presence is bare — it means a feast is coming.

The Word Does Not Return Void

Isaiah 55:10–11 tells us that God’s word is like rain and snow that water the earth — it always accomplishes its purpose. Even in a drought, the seed is not dead; it’s waiting for the appointed rain.

Sarah’s jar didn’t run dry. Simeon’s eyes saw the promise. The lost sheep was found. The prodigal was embraced. The hungering heart was filled.

Journaling as a Temple Court

In my own journey, the “quiet seasons” have been where journaling became a lifeline. Every entry was a temple court — my way of holding the mantle of promise until I could see the fulfillment.

Like Simeon waiting at the temple, or Sarah measuring out flour one handful at a time, journaling kept me present to the God who was already present.

For the One Who Feels Stuck

If you’re staring at the ceiling in prayer, or staring at a blank journal page, wondering if God has forgotten you — remember this: silence is not absence. The drought is not abandonment. Feeling stuck may actually mean you’re standing still long enough for God to do His deepest work.

So keep writing. Keep showing up. Keep holding the mantle of light.

Because one day, like Sarah, like Simeon, like the prodigal, you’ll find that the Journey of Everlasting Joy has been with you the whole time — settling into your mind, rooting in your heart, anchoring your soul.

And you’ll see Him.

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