A Time to Remain Silent and a Time to Speak

Sometimes we men need to simply shut up. Especially male politicians. We need to recognize that there are topics on which we are not qualified to speak. Instead we need to remain silent and let those speak who are qualified. For those who have not followed the news recently, yet another male politician, Richard Mourdock—a Republican senatorial candidate in Indiana, opened his mouth and stuck his foot way down his throat earlier this week when he said:

"I struggled with it myself for a long time, but I came to realize life is that gift from God, and I think even when life begins in that horrible situation of rape, that it is something that God intended to happen." (emphasis mine)

I hope those words leave you feeling as sick and angry as they do me. Unfortunately Mr. Mourdock is not the first politician to make such asinine statements. Remember Missouri candidate Todd Akin earlier this year? Remember the comments about “legitimate rape”? As if these comments by politicians were not bad enough Mark Galli, writing for Christianity Today affirmed Mr. Mourdock's statement. He wrote:

"It almost goes without saying that for Christians, while rape is a terrible thing, in the providence of God, this too can be redeemed, a tragic event from which love can emerge. And yet we live in a society in which many find this view intolerable, outside the bounds — anathema. This is a delicate conversation we're a part of in America, one that requires us to eschew the cheap advice or platitudes of Job's counselors, to be sure. Then again, it may be even more "disrespectful to the survivors of rape" to fail to tell them about the wondrous redeeming power of God, even in the most horrible circumstances." (emphasis mine)

I wasn't going to comment on this, because many excellent bloggers have already spoken strongly and clearly about these comments, among others: Danielle at From Two to One, Dianna Anderson, and this article by Lynn Beisner which explores the theology behind statements such as Mr. Mourdock's. But after reflecting on this issue I realized that we do need men to speak out as well, not to proclaim our great wisdom on matters such as rape, but to denounce such statements alongside our sisters. We men need to also be saying that views such as those espoused by Mr. Akin and Mr. Mourdock have no place in our civil discourse. They certainly have no place among those who will pass the laws which govern our society. These men are entitled to hold whatever opinion they want, but they need to learn to keep silent about them rather than speaking and exposing their foolishness. I am reminded of the oft-quoted phrase: “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.” Men, we cannot just see this as a “women's issue” and allow other men to devalue the trauma faced by women (and men) who have been raped.

In fact I need to modify my earlier statement. We men do need to be silent if we are inclined to speak about rape as if we really know anything about it. But we should not be silent in that we must acknowledge our complicity in a culture that devalues women and exalts men in such a way that rape becomes seen as a women's issue. It's not a women's issue in that most rape is perpetrated by men. So it's a men's issue as well. We don't have anything to say to survivors and victims of rape, other than to come alongside them, listen to them and offer our support in whatever way they need it. But we need to speak honestly and openly about the patriarchal culture which we support and benefit from that objectifies, sexualizes and demeans women, such that rape becomes legitimized in some perverse fashion. I am not saying that most of us men are rapists. But we tacitly and often actively perpetuate a culture in which the women around us live in fear. We go so far as to place the blame on them for the actions of men, telling them that if they only dressed more modestly and behaved differently—if only they would not “tempt” men so much, they wouldn't likely become victims. We need to stop teaching such crap to our sons. We need to stop perpetuating these lies through the media. We need to stop believing them ourselves. We need to accept responsibility for our own actions and then we need to consciously choose to act differently toward women. When we stop seeing women as different than us, as weaker than us, as needing our protection; when we stop relegating women to second (or lower) class status, then we can begin to transform society and, more specifically, the mentality that supports the culture of rape. We must let go of our power and privilege—rape after all is another means by which we men exert power over women (and other men at times)--and embrace women as fully equally partners in society. These are the things we need to be talking about. But we should remain silent on how victims of rape should behave and how they should view their situation. 


For those who call themselves by the name of Christ, we need to do all this even more so within the church. Unfortunately in many churches that status of women is lower than in society as a whole. Yes, we affirm that we treasure and value “our” women, and in a very real way we do. But we often do so by relegating them to a certain sphere of life, asserting that as long as they remain within their God-given roles they will be less likely to encounter the evils that befall women such as rape. We often implicitly accept the idea that good women won't find themselves in such situations, so therefore those who do must obviously have been doing something wrong (i.e. immoral) and therefore in some sense “got what they deserved.” There is no place for such language or thinking within the church. The church needs to affirm the full worth and dignity of women and speak out against evil in all forms, including the evil of rape. We need to stop condemning those who are victims of it, along with any condemnation of their choices afterwards. The church should be a place of healing and restoration and we men need to do our part to make it so. Again this includes releasing our hold on power and privilege and inviting our sisters to participate fully in all aspects of life.

Finally, we men need to vote in such a way that men such as Mr. Mourdock and Mr. Akin will not be in positions to write laws on issues such as rape. These men have no business influencing such laws and as voters, we need to use our vote to make sure they don't. In this small way we can also stand alongside our sisters against the evil of rape. It's time we men learned when to speak and when to remain silent.

Praying in the Dry Times

I have been thinking about prayer the last few days. I was taught in the churches I grew up in that a mature disciple prays daily as part of a regular time of devotion or “quiet time.” I have, by and large, maintained such a practice through most of my life. Now, as at certain other points in my journey, I find these devotional times to be difficult because I do not find them to bring renewed perspective or deeper insight. Often I feel like I am just going through the motions, and I was also taught that this is not something we want to do as true disciples.


I have been reading Eugene Petersen's book Tell It Slant and in a recent chapter found these thoughts on prayer:


“As we follow in the steps of our praying ancestors, we do not find them stopping off along the way to hold a seminar on prayer, or conducting controlled experiments to demonstrate the efficacy of prayer. They are preparing for the way of the Lord, following 'the Jesus Way.' They don't take time out to pray. Praying is what they are doing as they are preparing, as they are following.” (emphasis mine)


Can a faithful, mature disciple of Jesus maintain a healthy spiritual (and overall) life without setting aside specific time for prayer each day? Previously I would have answered with a theoretical yes but a practical no. Now I'm wondering if that is true. Does spiritual growth require something like a “quiet time” or devotional time? Certainly we are told in the Scriptures to pray without ceasing, which implies something that happens beyond just a specified time during each day. I've also been told that we should follow the example of Jesus, and the Scriptures speak of him taking time away from the intense demands on his life. However, it doesn't tell us whether this was a daily routine or something he did occasionally, as he needed to particularly recharge his spiritual vitality.


I could read books about prayer, maybe even attend a seminar on it. But that would only give me information about prayer. I've read books and heard many a fine message on prayer. But what does one do when prayer feels artificial, or forced? I don't want to be hypocritical and make a fine appearance of prayer devoid of any real substance. I like Petersen's frankness:


“The remarkable thing about prayer is not that so many people pray, but that some of us keep at it. Why do we keep praying when we have so little to show for it? Anyone who has made a practice of prayer knows the feeling, overwhelming sometimes, that prayer is a leaky bucket. You go to the river to get a pail of water and by the time you get home the water is gone, the bucket empty, and all there is left to show for your effort is a damp trail soon to be wiped out by the sun.”


Petersen acknowledges what I all-too-seldom hear in Christian circles: often the only response we get to our prayers is silence. We hear nothing from God and nothing we can do, no change in routine, method, timing, words used or anything else will change that. Petersen reminds us how often in the Psalms we hear expressions of people who are waiting for God to speak, to act, to respond. And many of them didn't get a response. Our cries, our prayers, don't force God to respond to us. I wish that were not the case, but it is and somehow I must deal with that.


Someone once told me, or maybe I read it somewhere, that when you don't feel like praying the thing to do is pray. It seems trite, simplistic even. Maybe there's a core truth in this response. When I don't feel like praying, I should keep at it anyway. I can affirm this in principle, but I do struggle with the practical application. What do I say when I feel like I have nothing to say, when nothing comes to my lips, or when I feel like I cannot adequately express myself? What do I say if I expect only silence in response?


I read a book a few years ago about Mother Teresa (Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light) that revealed, through letters she wrote to others during her life, how rarely she felt the presence and nearness of Jesus. She longed for him, longed to hear from him and to know his love. But for most of her life he remained distant—silent. Nonetheless she pressed on in prayer and in the practical outworking of her faith. Some read this book and were quite disappointed to discover the weakness of this great woman. I read it and found encouragement that if one as great as her could struggle with faith, then my struggle needn't indicate spiritual failure on my part. I must read that book again.


I don't have the answers yet. Perhaps I never will. I'm allowing myself greater latitude in my practice of prayer. I try to talk with God each morning as I begin my day, but some days it doesn't happen. Sometimes I do it sitting in a chair watching the day begin. Sometimes I do it as I walk in our neighborhood. Sometimes it is more scattered, broken thoughts directed god-ward as I juggle several other activities throughout the morning. That seems to fit with Petersen's description which I quoted earlier: Prayer as something I do while I am preparing and following, not some specialized activity or time cut off from the flow of real life. Sometimes I think that I'd like to fast from praying, but I have enough doubt about doing this as a result of the teaching I've received, that I must say I'm afraid to, because I still believe in some part of me that people who don't have regular “quiet times” are obviously not really spiritual people. Yet praying out of fear, duty or obligation doesn't really seem like a great thing either.


In the book I'm reading by Petersen the second half examines Jesus' language in prayer. I'm curious to see what he has to say. Maybe I'll find some helpful insights there. I'd love to hear the practices and experiences of others. Share with me your perspectives on praying. What works for you? Have you experienced times when all you heard was silence? How did you respond to that? 

The Silence of God

Today I want to share the words to a song I really like and have been listening to again lately. The version I have is performed by Michael Card on his album The Hidden Face of God.

It'll 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 heavens' 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.

But when you have 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;

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.

Words by Andrew Petersen (c) NewSpring Publishing

Have you ever experienced the silence of God? How did you feel and how did you respond?