Day 132

1 Samuel 28–29 | Acts 22:1–21

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Sometimes silence is more painful than rejection.

When you’ve owned your mistake.

Apologized from the heart.

Reached out with humility.

And all you hear is nothing.

No reply.

No response.

No resolution.

Just silence.

Saul Knew That Silence

In 1 Samuel 28, he’s desperate.

The Philistines are closing in. His heart is trembling. His enemies are many. And God won’t answer.

“Saul inquired of the Lord, but the Lord did not answer him.” (v. 6)

Not by dreams.

Not by Urim.

Not by prophets.

So Saul panics. He seeks a medium. Breaks his own rules. Consults the dead.

Because silence makes us do irrational things.

We fill the void with noise.

We try to manipulate the outcome.

We try to force a response that God—or someone else—simply isn’t giving.

And it never leads where we hope.

I Know That Ache

I’ve been there lately.

Not with the occult. But with the ache of silence.

I hurt a brother I love—deeply. Said things I don’t mean. I see it now. I’ve confessed it. I’ve apologized. I’ve wept over it. I’ve reached out.

And still… silence.

No anger. No explosion. Just absence. Not a single reply.

And it’s unbearable.

Because I want to fix it.

To clarify.

To clean it up.

To show him I really do love him.

But nothing I say will force healing. Nothing I do will manufacture grace. And if I try to control the outcome, I might only make it worse.

So I wait.

When Silence Is the Furnace

There’s something refining about silence.

It shows me whether I’m sorry because I got caught—or because I grieved someone I love.

It reveals if I’m patient enough to let God work in someone else’s heart without rushing Him.

It exposes my desire to be in control of outcomes that only God can orchestrate.

Because silence doesn’t always mean abandonment.

Sometimes it’s space.

Sacred space.

Where God does His deepest work.

And Then There’s Paul

In Acts 22, we see the other side of the story.

Paul is giving his testimony—confessing his violence, his blindness, his past.

He didn’t just get it wrong.

He persecuted the very church he now serves.

He stood there when Stephen was stoned.

But God didn’t leave him in silence.

He confronted Paul. Then commissioned him.

He didn’t just forgive him—He sent him.

“Go, for I will send you far away to the Gentiles.” (Acts 22:21)

Paul became a vessel of grace because he knew the weight of getting it wrong.

And that gives me hope.

Hope for the Ones Who Wait

If you’ve ever wronged someone and longed to make it right—this chapter is for you.

If you’ve sat in silence, wondering if the door is forever closed—this chapter is for you.

If you’ve owned your sin but still feel the sting of distance—this chapter is for you.

Because silence isn’t the end of the story.

God still speaks.

Still redeems.

Still sends.

He may not answer how or when we want.

But He never wastes the silence.

Could it be that the silence isn’t God’s punishment—but His preparation?

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Lord, I don’t know what You’re doing in this silence—but I trust that You’re doing something. Help me wait with humility. Hope with patience. Love without pushing. And rest in the truth that even when others are silent, You never are. Teach me to sit in the quiet long enough to be changed by it. And when the time is right, bring healing in a way only You can.

Amen.