There was a season recently where things got quiet. Not on the outside. Not in life (dealing with cancer was not quiet at all). Not in ministry (it’s been a lot and a lot of fun). But in writing, definitely quiet.
Writing has always been my outlet of reflection and contemplation. I’ve kept a diary or a journal ever since I was a little girl (side note: at what age does a diary become a journal?). But I haven’t kept one in years. I tried to, I have pretty, half-empty notebooks to prove it. But I just stopped. I wasn’t reflecting or contemplating. I wasn’t processing things the way I used to. Even this space, which used to feel so natural to come back to, became a chore that I kept putting off.
At first, I didn’t think much of it. I told myself that I was just busy. I would return to writing when things settled down. Things don’t ever settle down. Something always comes up. I realized it wasn’t about being busy. I wasn’t in a busy season. I was in a quiet season.
It was a different kind of quiet, too. Not the kind where everything feels peaceful and clear, but the kind where God feels a little more hidden and less obvious. The kind where I was still showing up, still serving, still believing, but without the same sense of clarity or momentum.
I didn’t know what to do with that. Part of me expected that if God wanted me to write, He would just give me something to say. Something clear. Something ready. Instead, there was silence. At least, that’s what it felt like. But just because there was silence, didn’t mean God was absent.
I know now that He was working in a quieter way. He was teaching me how to be faithful without constant inspiration. How to keep showing up without needing everything to feel meaningful in the moment. How to trust that He is still moving even when I don’t immediately see it.
Introverted as I am, this Pentecostal girl does not like that.
Cue the song “Waymaker” by Leeland: Even when I don’t see it, You’re working. Even when I don’t feel it, You’re working. You never stop. You never stop working.
God was reminding me that my relationship with Him isn’t built on how productive or inspired I feel. It’s built on trust. On faith. On believing and knowing that He is right here with me.
Isaiah 30:21 says, “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it’”.
Even in the quiet season, God is still guiding. Even in the stillness, He is present.
I used to underestimate those kinds of seasons. I saw them as pauses or setbacks. Now I’m starting to see them differently. Quiet seasons are not empty. They’re often where the deeper work happens. Where roots grow. Where faith stretches. Where trust forms without relying on feelings.
If you’re in a quiet season right now, you’re not doing something wrong. You’re in an invitation from God to trust Him in a deeper way. And if you’re coming out of a quiet season, like I feel I’m starting to, maybe you can look back and see what God has been doing all along.
I’m still learning that. And I’m grateful that He doesn’t waste any season, even the quiet ones.