silence can be difficult.

we  have a hard time coping with it when we are longing for something specific.

but there we stand. in an apparent lack of receipt of any news, any word that might just give us the relief we are seeking…whatever the need or purpose may be.

and so there we stand.

this man with the withered hand was sitting the back of the synagogue, trying not to be noticed, but at the same time desperate for something he could not provide for himself, and something that no one was making any effort to give him. he knew that he was not wanted there because of his affliction, but he couldn’t stay away. something in his heart kept crying out, and he would brave the sneers and contempt and silence to try to find it…

what he wanted was no different than what each of us want every day. we want to be affirmed. we want to be told that we do, in fact, matter and that we are loved, and worth loving.

he had probably given up any hope of change for his hand…but in his heart, he knew that his hand was not the definition of who he was. it did not make up the sum total of his life, but it seemed the religious leaders thought it did…and because they did, those people who were trying hard to follow the rules and be pious did what they saw being done.

and so nothing changed…and his longing went unabated.

the day Jesus showed up at synagogue seemed to be no different. he took his seat in the back. and just listened.

you have to wonder if he had any inkling that the day would be different. if he had heard the stories about Jesus. if that day, hope sparked, ever so slightly, in his heart. and when Jesus called him forward, if he was suddenly hit by a wave of dread…thinking that He was going to be like all the rest of them and point out his flaws as inadequacy.

so, when asked, he stretches out what he can of his withered hand…only to find it suddenly restored.

completely restored.

he knew full well the limitations of his reach, but that arm just kept extending!

those curled up fingers released just as naturally as his good hand would.

the muscles of his arm filled out, and now matched his other arm…just as it should.

the silence…

the silence was over.

the deepest longing of his heart, for restoration, was fulfilled that day in the work of Jesus Christ.

we all have withered hands. there is something in our life that we sit and wait and long to have fixed, or restored…but seem to be met with silence. but patience pays off, and hope does not disappoint. not if that hope is in Jesus. God has a specific plan in mind for each and every one of us…a pathway that leads to His glory and our perfection in and through Him. and while that perfection will not come in it’s entirety on this side of eternity, there is always work to be done, and supposed silence to be broken.

God does not just hear our cries.

our pain is not met with silence, but with the providence of Almighty God.

He does not leave His children to suffer. He hears the cry of every heart. He knows our pain. He knows our longings.

and in His great grace…those longings will be answered in time.

all glory and honor and power is His now and forever!

amen.