When Silence Becomes the Answer

God is the greatest GPS. Even when I wander off course, He always leads me home.

Lately, I’ve been in one of those in-between seasons. The kind that makes you sit back, pray a little longer, and wonder what comes next. My time as an assistant coach has wrapped up, and while part of me feels a sense of completion, another part of me is asking, Lord, what now?

Do I get involved and start a new project with a friend? Write another book? Help a parish program that’s struggling to fill roles? Or do I simply stay still for a while, showing back up at daily Mass and waiting for Him to point the way?

That word, discerning, has been heavy on my heart.

If you’ve ever tried to make sense of God’s will, you know it’s not always clear. Sometimes the Holy Spirit gives you a nudge, soft but steady. Other times, it’s like being hit by a two-by-four right between the eyes. You know instantly what He’s telling you to do. And then there are those times when you pray, listen, and ask again, only to be met with silence.

And that silence can be the hardest part.

We live in a world where everything happens fast. We get answers in seconds, groceries in minutes, and entire seasons of shows in one sitting. Waiting feels unnatural. But when it comes to God’s timing, everything runs on His clock. His answers don’t load faster just because we’re anxious. Sometimes silence is not absence. Sometimes silence is the answer.

There’s an old line I’ve heard a dozen times but never get tired of: “You want to make God laugh? Tell Him your plans.” Every time I start sketching out what I think the next chapter will look like, I can almost hear that laugh. Because His plan always ends up better than mine. Maybe not easier, maybe not quicker, but always better.

That’s where discernment comes in.

Discernment isn’t about trying to guess what God wants. It’s about learning to listen for how He moves in your heart. It’s not a one-time revelation. It’s a relationship. A back-and-forth conversation between your soul and the Holy Spirit. It’s like learning the difference between static and signal on an old radio. The more you tune in, the clearer the voice becomes.

In these moments, I often turn back to something that has helped me before: the Discernment of Spirits as taught by Saint Ignatius of Loyola. Years ago, I was introduced to his spiritual rules through the writings of Father Timothy Gallagher, and they’ve become a compass I return to again and again.

Father Gallagher once wrote, “Discernment is not about discovering something new, but about noticing the gentle guidance of God already present in your life.” That line has stayed with me. Because sometimes I don’t need a brand-new sign from heaven. I just need to recognize what’s already been happening right in front of me.

Ignatius used two simple words to describe what happens inside us when we’re trying to follow God’s will: Consolation and Desolation.

Consolation is when your heart feels drawn toward God, when there’s peace, clarity, or even a quiet joy that doesn’t depend on your circumstances. You feel alive in your faith, open to His love, ready to serve. It’s that sense that you’re right where you need to be.

Desolation feels different. It’s when everything seems foggy or heavy. Prayer feels dry. God feels far away. Your energy drops. The things that once lifted you now feel like chores. You second-guess everything. Ignatius said to be careful in that state. Don’t make big decisions in desolation. Don’t quit. Don’t rewrite your story out of fear or exhaustion.

That advice has saved me more than once.

I’ve had seasons where I thought the silence meant God had left. But now I know better. Sometimes the silence is when He’s drawing me deeper. Teaching me to trust. Reminding me to stay steady until the fog clears.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, on your own intelligence do not rely; in all your ways be mindful of him, and he will make straight your paths.” (Proverbs 3:5–6)

That verse has become one of my anchors during discernment. It tells me that trust comes before understanding. God rarely gives you the map all at once. More often, He gives you the next turn, and you take it by faith.

It reminds me of just how a GPS works. You can drive for miles without knowing the whole route, but the voice will always speak when it’s time to turn. Sometimes when you’ve gone off course, it says, Recalculating… and somehow, it corrects your way and you’re back on the right path. That’s how God’s will feels to me. Patient. Persistent. Always bringing me back, no matter how many wrong turns I take.

There’s peace in that. Even when the road ahead is blurry, I can rest knowing the One giving directions already knows where I’m going.

Right now, I’m trying to live that peace. To wait without rushing. To trust without needing to know. To let go of my urge to plan everything and let the Spirit lead instead. I don’t know where He’s taking me next, but I do know He hasn’t stopped guiding me.

Maybe you’re in a season like that too. Maybe you’ve been asking God what’s next and hearing nothing but silence. Maybe you’ve been looking for a sign, a word, a confirmation. I want you to know that silence doesn’t mean absence. God might already be speaking in ways too gentle to notice, through the people you meet, the peace you feel, or even the restlessness that pushes you to grow.

So here’s my prayer this week:

Come, Holy Spirit. Quiet my anxious thoughts. Open my heart to hear Your voice. Give me the courage to wait in peace, and the faith to move when You say go. Amen.

Discernment is rarely quick, but it is always worth it. God’s timing may not be ours, but it’s perfect.

So, if you find yourself standing at a crossroads, unsure of what comes next, take a breath. Pray. Listen. Trust.

He will make your path straight. Even if you can’t see the road yet.