The Cry We Once Prayed For

But silence has never been proof of health.

Good morning friend,

There is a sound everyone waits for in a delivery room.

Not laughter.
Not conversation.
A cry.

Until that baby cries, life is not yet confirmed. Silence in that moment is frightening. Doctors listen closely. Parents hold their breath. Because life, when it truly arrives, announces itself with sound.

Then the cry comes and relief floods the room.

But something changes with time.

I once watched a new mother rock her baby aggressively in the middle of the night, not out of anger, but exhaustion. Earlier that same day, she had said, “I just want him to sleep.” It wasn’t that she wanted the baby gone. She just wanted the crying to stop.

And that is where many of us are far beyond infancy, but not beyond this pattern.

We celebrate life at birth.
But we struggle with life when it grows.

The cry that once meant life is here soon becomes this is too much.

And this is not just about babies.

Purpose cries.
Conviction cries.
Calling cries.

When God births something in us, we rejoice. We testify. We thank Him. But as that life grows, it begins to demand alignment. It interrupts sleep. It disrupts routines. It refuses to be ignored.

And instead of nurturing it, we try to quiet it.

We silence conviction with activity.
We mute calling with excuses.
We drown hunger with comfort.

Not because God stopped speaking, but because the sound became inconvenient.

Here is the truth we don’t like to admit:
We prefer a quiet Christianity to a living one.

But silence has never been proof of health.

A silent baby at birth is an emergency.
And a silent faith that never confronts, never convicts, never demands repentance is not maturity. It is danger.

Some cries are not signs of rebellion.
They are signs of life fighting to grow.

If what God has placed in you is making noise, refusing to let you settle, insisting on obedience, calling you higher, do not rush to silence it.

That cry may be the very proof that heaven is still at work in you.

Because only living things cry.
And only dead things are always quiet.

May God give us grace not just to celebrate life when it begins, but to sustain it when it becomes demanding.

Have a discerning Tuesday,
Pastor Iyiola Abimbola