Waiting on God

I want to dedicate this post to my wonderful husband, Jon. He has been struggling with back pain for over 2 years now. He had back surgery Tuesday, Dec. 23rd. And we are waiting to see if the back pain is gone. Right now he is experiencing pain from the incision itself and that is masking any good feeling that he might be having from the herniation being gone. It has been a long week since the surgery, wondering if there will be relief. Jon owns his own auto repair business and provides for his family with the strength of his hands and body.

Some days it is really hard to wait on God. I know in my head that He is in control but my heart doesn't agree. Sometimes the "silence", the waiting, becomes unbearable. As our boys and I drove into work this morning (at the shop) we prayed for Jon that he would soon experience relief. Also, this song came to me. I wanted to post the lyrics and dedicate them to Jon. I love you.

The Silence of God by Andrew Peterson


It's enough to drive a man crazy; it'll break a man's faith
It's enough to make him wonder if he's ever been sane
When he's bleating for comfort from Thy staff and Thy rod
And the heaven's only answer is the silence of God

It'll shake a man's timbers when he loses his heart
When he has to remember what broke him apart
This yoke may be easy, but this burden is not
When the crying fields are frozen by the silence of God

And if a man has got to listen to the voices of the mob
Who are reeling in the throes of all the happiness they've got
When they tell you all their troubles have been nailed up to that cross
Then what about the times when even followers get lost?
'Cause we all get lost sometimes...

There's a statue of Jesus on a monastery knoll
In the hills of Kentucky, all quiet and cold
And He's kneeling in the garden, as silent as a Stone
All His friends are sleeping and He's weeping all alone

And the man of all sorrows, he never forgot
What sorrow is carried by the hearts that he bought
So when the questions dissolve into the silence of God
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
In the holy, lonesome echo of the silence of God