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Archive for September, 2014

How to Prepare for God’s Silence

Natasha Metzler

How to prepare for God's silence

All of life moves in seasons. Sometimes things are bright as a glorious summer day, and the next moment winter bleakness has settled in.

I’ve faced some long winters.

Between a childhood in Alaska and adulthood in Northern New York, there are a few things I’ve learned about winter. You can survive it. You can. It’s entirely possible. But you have to do the work. You have to cut the wood, or fill the oil tanks, or store the coal. You have to be wise about where you go and who you listen to. You have to plan ahead.

In Alaska, winters include hours of darkness—days when the skies remain a muted gray and fade into black. Day after day after day.

The honest-to-goodness truth is that God allows us to go through winters in our souls, where things freeze and struggles abound. And we have to be prepared. We…

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How to Survive God’s Silence

Natasha Metzler

How to Survive God's Silence

I was drowning in a vast ocean of emptiness. Why was God silent while I, who had followed Him faithfully for so many years, was begging for answers?

I mourned the loss of a baby who never truly lived. I buried the dream of children under the ashes of infertility. I screamed at the heavens for answers. I sat crumbled on the floor for hours and forced myself to breathe. And silence echoed.

Questions filled my journals and tears filled my nights instead of sleep.

Where are you, God? Where? What have I done to deserve your indifference?

By the time I turned to Scripture, I was dying for oxygen.

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Learning to Trust God’s Silence

Natasha Metzler

Learning to Trust God's Silence

This year I finally received answers to questions I asked 9 long years ago. Questions I etched out into my journals with moans and tears.

I wondered why God was granting my sister-in-law the answers to her prayers, with the gift of beautiful twin girls, while I begged and pleaded for just one child. Why did He say no to me, and yes to her? Why did I have to suffer, while others rejoiced?

For years those questions remained unanswered. They sat dormant through a long winter season. Years and years of icy coldness.

But the moment when my daughter arrived, this amazing bubbly eight-year-old girl, who may not be born from our genes but is the spitting image of her Daddy (every last ornery, stubborn piece of him), winter thawed.

God’s silence on the subject of my infertility broke. His words echoed in thunders from the heavens.

It…

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