You have brought to God what you cannot even speak to men. A petition wrapped in silence, a cry that does not take the form of words. Do not think this is a small thing, or that your prayer is incomplete. The groanings which cannot be uttered are often the truest prayers. God does not need the sound of our voice; He reads the depths of the heart.
But let us examine ourselves. Why is this request unspoken? Is it a holy reserve, a matter too sacred for the public ear? Or is it tied to what the Apostle calls the hidden things of shame? There is a kind of silence that is wisdom, and another that is a prison. We often suffer in the dark corners of our soul, stung by a memory, a desire, or a fear we dare not name. Like those who return from raving anger, we come to ourselves with a secret terror. You fear who might know, who might condemn. You fear the thing itself, a swelling that might place you in danger. But hiding the wound from the Physician never brings a cure.
Consider this: is the burden you carry so silently the light and easy yoke of Christ? No. Look at the burdens of sin, the covetous desire, the secret resentment, the dread of exposure. Are they not full of anxiety, disturbance, and waves of sorrow that never cease? You know this well, for you feel the weight of it even as you kneel. You have renounced these hidden things of shame, or at least you long to. So why do you still grasp them in the dark? To hide a thing is to feed it, and to give it power over your soul.
God is faithful. He will not suffer you to be tempted above what you are able, but will with the temptation make a way of escape. That way of escape is not to bury the thing in unspoken dread. The way of escape is to bring it before the God who already sees it. You cannot honor men more than God. If a man insulted you, you might say, "It is not you who insult me, but another." Use this same caution with God. When the passion swells or the shame whispers, say to your soul: "It is God who holds my heart; He knows this already. I will not be restive. I will not allow Him to be less honored by me than men."
If the unspoken matter weighs on you like a stone, you may not need great eloquence to seek help. You have a brother or sister in Christ who is wise. Even in a private conversation, without rhetoric or elaborate speech, you can open a small window to let the light in. If in a small matter of ordinary counsel you are not in earnest, how can you be trusted with the great? Do not let pride or fear keep you in solitude with your struggle. The gates of hell were broken and the dead were loosed; can a hidden thought resist that power?
But perhaps your silence is not from shame, but sorrow. Some burdens are just too heavy for human language, a grief that sits in the soul like a fog. Even then, do not imagine that God is the God only of the joys you can express. He is the God of the inexpressible too. He knows the mind of the Spirit who intercedes for us.
Therefore, rise up from the tyranny of silence, not to announce your trial on the housetops, but to finally give it a name in your own heart before God. He was silent before His accusers, but not silent to the Father. Take His yoke, His way of meekness and humility, upon this very situation. Learn of Him in the quiet of your chamber. The burden you whisper only in the groanings of your spirit, cast it upon Him. For His yoke is not the yoke of pretend strength or silent endurance alone; it is the yoke of trust. And that trust must take the shape of words, even if only between you and the God who “willeth not the death of the sinner, but that he should turn unto Him and live.” Speak, therefore, that you may live.