I remember the quiet rooms. I’ve sat in many of them - Bible open, pen in hand, hoping God would speak. And I’ve known the silence. The kind of silence that settles into your spirit like fog, wrapping around your prayers and leaving you wondering if anyone is actually listening.

We don’t talk much about that part. About the ache. The waiting. The dullness that creeps into our walk with God when the conversations dry up and our prayers feel like they’re bouncing off the ceiling.

And yet, that’s often where the journey begins.

Years ago, I was in India, walking the beach at dawn. The devout were lining up before temples, offering their morning prayers. But as I watched, I realized something - they weren’t expecting an answer. Prayer was a duty, not a dialogue.

It struck me that many Christians, myself included, approach God in much the same way. We speak to Him, not with Him. We list our needs, recite our thanks, and then move on - never pausing long enough to listen. Or to believe He might actually want to respond.

Jesus said, “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27). The idea that God speaks is not just a doctrine - it’s biblical and it's a lifeline. Scripture shows us a God who initiates, who walks with us in the cool of the day, who whispers in the night. A God who calls His children by name.

But listening takes more than belief. It takes time. Space. A stillness that the modern world actively resists. “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).

Maybe that’s where you find yourself. You’ve prayed. You’ve waited. But the silence lingers. And you're tempted to settle for a one-sided relationship with God - functional, predictable, and quiet.

But what if silence isn’t the end of the conversation? What if it’s the doorway?

Listening prayer isn’t a technique. It’s a posture. It’s the belief that God not only spoke in the past but still speaks now - and not just through Scripture or sermons, but in the still, small voice that reaches us when we finally slow down.

If you're feeling numb, you’re not alone. But numbness doesn’t mean absence. Often, it's the soul’s way of signaling that it needs more than answers - it needs presence.

The kind that can’t be rushed. The kind that waits patiently to be invited in.

I don’t have a formula. But I can offer this:

• Find a quiet place. Not once, but often.

• Bring your questions, not just your requests.

• Write them down. Wait. Be still.

• Expect something. Not thunder, but maybe a whisper.

• And when you hear something—an impression, a picture, a phrase—write it. Test it. Sit with it.

In time, the silence may begin to break.

Because God hasn’t stopped speaking. We’ve just stopped listening.

And He is still the kind of Father who walks into quiet rooms, sits beside us, and speaks to the ones who wait.