Speechless

Have you ever felt the need to pray, to reach out to God about some troubling matter, but when you tried to say something, you were at a loss for words? All the raw emotions and myriad thoughts were swirling around in your head, there was so much to say, but you just couldn’t find the words. If you have found yourself speechless before God, welcome to the club. I’ve had that experience too many times to count, and I spent my life as a pastor!

I, too, have knelt in silence before the Almighty, embarrassed and frustrated that I couldn’t verbalize what was inside of me. And what’s worse, when I tried to force words out, they didn’t represent the thoughts that had driven me to my knees in the first place.

Was there something wrong with my faith? Was I too spiritually ill prepared to pray? Maybe some sin had estranged me from God, rendering me unworthy to enter divine presence. In silence, the seconds and minutes ticked by until, finally, I felt all the energy had drained out of me, almost as if a violent storm had passed.

For years I did not know what to make of my inability to voice my feelings to God. I attributed my silence to a number of factors: Maybe I was trying too hard to come up with the right words, wanting to impress God with my verbal skills. Or maybe I was too tired to pray. Or maybe there was too much on my mind that distracted me from focusing on God. For whatever reason, there were times when I was tongue-tied before God. Even then, I never gave up on prayer. Occasionally, the words would flow as I poured out my heart, but there were other prayer experiences when I couldn’t squeeze out a single word.

Why were there times when the words in my head never reached my mouth? Could it be that I was too reliant on words? Maybe my understanding of prayer needed to be reevaluated. Perhaps words aren’t always needed. Are there times when prayer doesn’t necessarily need any sound at all? More and more I began to think about the nature of prayer and what it means to pray. When we yearn for an audience with God, it very well may be that God knows already what we want to say even before we say it. Maybe prayer is more a matter of the heart than of the tongue.

Rabbi Abraham J. Heschel tells the story of a man in prayer who used the word “hate,” instead of “love,” when trying to express his feelings for God. The two words sound almost identical in Hebrew—ayabta, “shall hate,” phonetically resembles ahabta, “shall love.” Even though the man had committed what some would consider a grievous sin, God read the intent of the heart and knew that the man had simply misspoken. Accordingly, God said, “His mistake is beloved to me” (Source: Midrash Rabba, The Song of Songs).

Rabbi Abraham J. Heschel

The beautiful story helped me to understand that words are not always what matters to God. God is not anxious to find fault but lovingly embraces all who come with an open and receptive heart. Jesus said it best: “Your Father knows what you need even before you ask him” (Matt. 6:8).

God listens carefully to a person’s inner-self, the part beyond words. Consequently, even if the words are correct but the heart remains closed to God, then prayers remain empty verbiage. True prayer, in the words of Heschel, begins where words end. He writes, “The words that reach our lips are often but waves of an overflowing stream touching the shore.” It is the source of the waves, the inner parts of the heart, God hears. These inward thoughts oftentimes can’t be expressed in mere words. Again, Heschel, “It is the ineffable in us that reaches God.” It is often that which cannot be verbalized that reveals our true feelings.

Our words in prayer are often limited by our vocabulary, emotions, or ability to speak, but what is within us, our attitude toward God, depends on nothing but the innate self. It may sound a bit strange, but words can actually serve as a kind of shield that tries to conceal our true self from God. The most beautifully phrased sentences, if spoken from an insincere heart, are clanging noises to God who hears our inner self before words are ever spoken.

One of Elijah’s most meaningful encounters with God occurred when God spoke to him in a “gentle whisper” or, as the Hebrew renders it, in the “sound of nothing” (1 Ki. 18). It is quite possible that silence prepares our heart for the highest form of worship. The psalmist writes, “For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O Lord, thou knowest it all” (Ps. 139:4). The prophet Zephaniah adds, “Be silent before the Lord God . . . . Be silent, all flesh, before the Lord” (Zeph. 1:7; 2:13). Isaiah affirms that spiritual strength is drawn from “quietness and trust” (Is. 30:15). The Apostle Paul recognizes the inadequacy of speech in prayer when he writes in Romans that there are times when we are at a loss for words, but God’s Spirit intercedes for us through “wordless groans” (Rom. 8:26). I have come to realize that some of my most meaningful times in prayer are spent in silence. Inner peace may come more from silence before God than from speaking to God.

I believe prayer is an essential part of faith. Prayer focuses our hearts and minds on the things of God. Prayer is not so much asking God for what we want; prayer is asking God for the strength to do what God wants—to be able to say, not my will but thy will be done.

There will be many times, in fact, most times, when we will use words in prayer. Speech is part of who we are, and the words we pray have a way of reinforcing what flows from our heart, allowing us to mentally keep a record of what we have said to God. Yet, even when we kneel wordless before the heavens, silence may give voice to what is deeply embedded within us.

Spending time before God in prayer may help us to keep our balance in a topsy-turvy world, regardless of whether we speak or remain silent. Prayer may quieten the turbulent storms within and allow us to find moments of rest for our weary souls.