Silence

I have seen God move and work in my life and the lives of others in both awesomely large and infinitely small, though no less amazing, feats. I have witnessed miracles and answers to truly faithful prayer that I never would’ve imagined or even believed decades ago, and these small or great wondrous acts have fractured open my lifetimes of diamond-hardened glaze to pour shimmering molten faith to fill and seal the fissures that pervaded my broken heart and soul. These great and wondrous acts have served as the cement to fasten me in place when I was sure the funnel clouds whirling overhead would surely carry me away.   But now, well, now when I seek Him, when my heart cries out in true need and desperate faith, I hear…nothing.

“Bereft” fits my darkened soul-state today, this week, or to be fairly transparent, off and on for the past several weeks, and please understand that I do not share this lightly. I feel so very separate from what has become the absolute core of my being – my Creator – and I have heard this phase – when you cannot hear the Lord or feel His mercy – as “the dark night of the soul” as described by Theresa of Avila, but a flicker of hope burns bright as I am reminded that she also stated that He can end this separation from Him with but one word. But until then, what? What shall I use as my guideposts until His voice returns? His word when there is no Spirit communication to translate and infuse their wisdom? I certainly cannot trust my own fickle human heart.

In my rational mind I know I never walk alone, ever. I know He remains beside me, but I cannot feel Him, the One who has been my constant, the One who has carried me through the absolute worst days and years of my life. And I long for Him as I have known and experienced Him. There are days I wonder if I will survive until He reveals Himself again in ways I can clearly distinguish. I wonder at the timing of His absence; why now? For we know He does all things with a purpose, all things for our good, even if it becomes clear to us only years down the craggy paths of our lives.

Can I love without Him? Can I be merciful without Him? Show grace? Kindness? Perseverance? Faith and even joy? Maybe finding that out is the ultimate and central point. In Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis says, “…give yourself to Me and I will make of you a new self—in My image. Give Me yourself and in exchange I will give you Myself. My will, shall become your will. My heart shall become your heart.” So, maybe being left in silence – in stillness – is a further attempt to transform my heart to be more like His. In that case, the schism I feel yawning wide isn’t a schism at all but a tighter seam being gently and quietly sewn between His heart and mine. Maybe the true reality that stretches eternally yet unattainably beyond my comprehension is His deep and abiding Love and not abandonment, but, then, I never, ever have believed He’d abandoned me. After all, I am His and He is mine. My name is burnt upon His heart; whether I hear Him, whether I feel Him, whether I see Him I am always His beloved.

One absolute upon which I can rely, He will always return. “…as surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.” Hosea 6:3