We’ve all seen it.
Businesses shuttered, never to reopen.
Restaurants darkened, never to have the lights turned back on.
Entertainment venues empty, never to be filled.
Doors of opportunity, once open and welcome to all, now forever closed.
The noise of commerce, community, and communion once loud and clear, now silenced.
Each one of these representing a dream, a passion, a lifelong pursuit…now shattered and broken.
And I feel it. Because I’ve been there.
A friend of mine posted this morning about the heartbreaking and gut-wrenching decision to close their summer camp for the season. A camp that I attended. A camp that was quite literally a lifeline for me. A camp that was foundational in my spiritual journey, but also provided many opportunities for personal and relational growth throughout my childhood. A camp that help shape, mold, and define the woman I am today. As I read her words, I felt her anguish. I shared her disappointment. I understood her frustration. A fellow cabin-mate of mine posted the response, “This feels like a season of sadness.”
And I feel it. Because I’ve been there. For five long years, I’ve been there.
We couldn’t have known, back when things started going sideways, how long our season of sadness would last or what it would look like. We had no idea that a few years later, God would allow the heat to be turned up – exponentially – and we would find ourselves in a pressure cooker of simultaneous emotional, mental, spiritual, financial, and relational struggle. But being people of faith, we did what any regular, garden-variety Christ-follower would do: we got on our knees and began to pray. And as we prayed, we held on to hope that this season would not last forever, that God would be right there with us to give us comfort, guidance, and peace, that we would never walk alone.
SLAM. And then the first door shut.
God, what do we do now? Do we wait in this room, or look for a window? Should we try to open the door, or trust that You will open it in time?
Silence.
SLAM. Another door closed.
God, we know that disappointment and hardship is a part of life, but are we on the wrong path? Should we be going in a different direction? We look to You for our next steps.
Silence.
SLAM.
God, are we – is one of us – the cause of this struggle? Do we have unconfessed sin in our lives? Is one of us – or all of us – holding back from yielding ourselves completely to You? Please show us and reveal any wickedness we may be hiding.
Silence.
SLAM.
God, did we misunderstand something? Are we outside of Your will? Or is this simply a season of testing, of refining, of shaping and molding us to be more like You? Give us a word, a sign, that will help us to know we are still where you want us to be.
Silence.
SLAM.
God, we’re trying to do the right things. We’ve tried to seek out wise counsel. We’ve tried to connect in community with other believers. We’ve remained faithful to our local church. We’ve sought opportunities for service. We’ve invested in our own mental health and tried to be good stewards of our physical bodies. What more do you want from us? What more can we do? What more can we give? Please show us where we’ve fallen short. Please reveal to us where we need to do better.
Silence.
SLAM.
God, if I’m being honest, we’re angry. We’re hurt. We’re disillusioned. We’ve prayed boldly for the “yes” and received nothing but “no”. We’ve prayed persistently for a word and received nothing but silence. We’ve scoured Your word and clung to your promises but received no deliverance, no help, no rest. We’ve waited expectantly for You. We’ve cried out for You. We’ve begged for a touch from You. Where are You? Why are You so far away?
Silence.
SLAM.
“Call to Me, and I will answer You, and show you great and mighty things you don’t know.”
Silence.
SLAM.
“Ask, and you shall receive. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened to you.”
Silence.
SLAM.
“You do not have because you do not ask.”
Silence.
SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.
“Whatever you ask in My name, you shall receive it.”
Silence.
SSSSLLLAAAAMMM.
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted.” “The Lord rescued me from the miry clay. He set my feet upon a rock.” “God is able to do immeasurably more than we could ask or even imagine.” “The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still.” “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” “If you, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in Heaven give good gifts to those who ask Him!” “In all your ways, acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths.” “If any of you lacks wisdom, let Him ask of God, who gives freely and without reproach.”
Silence.
Deafening silence.
This is not the God we have known. This is not the God we have believed. This is not the God we have been taught or read about or experienced. We now understand how people can simply walk away from church. From their faith. From God.
There’s not an easy way to end a blog post like this. We’re not out of it yet. There’s still no answer. We’re still waiting, trusting, hoping. But our faith is fragile, and our trust is weak. Our emotions are frayed and our strength is gone. We are still wounded and vulnerable.
But maybe this post resonates with you. Maybe, like us, you’re at a place in your life where you’re struggling to find God. Maybe, like us, you are disillusioned by the disappointments and hurts you’ve experienced. Maybe, like us, your faith has been stretched to a breaking point. Maybe, like us, you’ve found that the promises in Scripture seem to ring hollow. That God hears everyone else’s cry for help except yours. That God is silent.
I can’t tell you I have the answers. I don’t. I can’t give you advice. I don’t have any. I can’t offer any words of wisdom or quick-fix strategies. There aren’t any. But I can say I feel it. I’ve been there. I AM there. And if you’ll let me, I’ll walk beside you. I’ll sit with you. I’ll listen to you. I’ll cry with you.
And maybe, just maybe, there will come a day when the silence will end and the doors will open once more.