Prayer for When God Feels Silent

My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? I know those words. Jesus said them. From the cross. Which means I'm allowed to say them too. Because that's where I am right now. In a place that feels like silence. Where I've been praying and the ceiling feels low and I'm not sure any of it is going anywhere.

I cry in the daytime but you don't answer. And in the night there's no rest. That's not poetry to me right now. That's Tuesday. That's last week. That's the feeling I carry to bed every night and wake up with every morning.

I'm not leaving. I want you to know that. I'm not walking away. But I need you to know that this is hard. That I am tired. That the silence is heavy. And that pretending it isn't feels like lying to you. And I don't want to lie to you.

Our fathers trusted in thee. They trusted, and you delivered them. They cried unto thee and were saved. I know that. I hold onto that. On the days I can hold onto anything. I am holding onto what David held when he felt exactly what I feel. Psalm 22 says For he has not despised nor abhorred the affliction of the afflicted. Neither has he hidden his face from him. But when he cried unto him, he heard. He heard. Even in this. Even when it feels like nothing is reaching. You hear. I need to say that out loud to myself because I keep forgetting it.

I don't have an ending for this prayer, Lord. I don't have the tidy conclusion. I came in broken and I'm still broken. But I'm broken in your presence. And that's different than being broken alone.

For the kingdom is the Lord's. He is the governor among the nations. You are still in charge. Even when my life feels ungoverned. Even when nothing makes sense. You are still the Lord of it.

I don't have much tonight, God. Just this. I'm still here. I'm still talking to you. That has to count for something.

In the name of Jesus, I pray.

Amen.