Are You there, God? It’s me…no, not Margaret. It’s not *that* kind of post. And anyway, that book’s already been written.
I ask that because…well…sometimes it seems as though You’re not. When Matt had cancer, I almost felt Your arms carrying me through the difficult days. There were times I could tangibly sense Your presence hovering over, around, and within me as I cried tears of uncertainty and confusion and frustration and hurt. When he was falsely accused, I was secure in Your strength, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that You would be his advocate, his judge, his vindication.
Even in those times when I have stepped out of Your will and allowed myself to be governed by my own fears and insecurities, You have been right there beside me, whispering in my ear. I have been unable to escape Your faithful, loving embrace, drawing me back to where I should have been all along.
So why do You seem so silent now?
I have so many questions. Over the past six months, I’ve asked and searched and pleaded and prayed and sought and bargained and cried out…and there have been many times I’ve felt as though my words were merely echoes in a vacant place. As though my prayers and petitions don’t have the power or strength to span the distance from my mouth to Your ears. As though my pleas and cries bounce back to resonate within my mind, awakening the demons of doubt and despair.
So I ask again, Are You there, God? Do You hear me? Are my cries getting through?
And out of the blue, You assure me…Yes, my daughter, I am here. I may not be speaking as often, I may not even be as visible to you, but never doubt the fact that I am here. I have promised, I will never leave you nor forsake you. You are my precious child, and I love you. Always remember that.
Almost as if to prove it, You send me a blessing. A little pick-me-up in the form of an encouraging word. A reminder in a message of hope and peace that I desperately needed to hear. A love note in the form of an unexpected – and undeserved – gift from an unlikely source. A ray of light in the form of an opportunity I couldn’t have seen coming.
So yes, God, You are there. In the midst of this famine of hearing Your voice, You are there. In the deafening silence, You are there. Waiting, patiently, for the fulness of the time. Waiting, knowingly, until that hunger and thirst borne of famine causes me to drink fully and completely from Your word, and be filled by You and You alone. Waiting, peacefully, until the exhaustion of striving and straining causes us to surrender. Waiting, providentially, until we are ready to receive Your blessing.