Andrew Peterson - The Silence of God

This morning I came across this video over at Kevin DeYoung's blog.  I've mentioned on a number of occasions how much I appreciate Andrew Peterson's music.  He combines beautiful musicality and rich, poetic language to communicate deep, timeless messages.  The song The Silence of God from his album, Love and Thunder is certainly no exception.

It is far too common I fear, especially in the afterglow of Easter's triumph, for Christians to become triumphalistic, to think that all our troubles have been "nailed to the cross."  The reality of life is though, that we still suffer pain, we still face hardships, and there are still times when it feels like God is absent. As Peterson reminds us here, it is helpful, especially in those times to remember:

And the man of all sorrows, he never forgot
What sorrow is carried by the hearts that he bought

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