Final Thoughts on the Silence of God.

 I never want to argue with God. I try sometimes and never win. So I need to lay this topic to rest. This morning during my coffee with God, I began crying, picked up my journal, and wrote the following: 

Dear God, 

I never now know how to begin when I talk to you because asking about your ay doesn't really work, and created me with a disdain for small talk anyway. 


The past few months left me angry and confused and questioning everything I thought I knew. Events that broke me so hard. Events that passed through your hands. That was the most confusing part of it all. But I see now, these things weren't sent to destroy me. You weren't angry with me or trying to punish me. You didn't let these things happen to chuckle behind glass while I wrestled and struggled with a God who didn't live up to my expectations. You let me kick and scream and hurl accusations at you because you're not afraid of my rawest form. You formed me in the secret place of my mother's womb, and you haven't stopped forming me. I see now, your silence was not because I annoyed you. You chose not to speak because you knew I would argue with you. And I don't want to argue with you. Your love knocks me off my feet. The way you give just enough grace for today. The way you almost casually answered a prayer I forgot I prayed. 

The thing is, there is always enough grace for today. It's just a matter of whether or not I chose to make it my Oxygen. Lie Ann Voskamp says, "Life comes in waves. It ebbs and it flows." And your presence is always there. Sometimes close, sometimes further away, when you know we need space to wrestle and wonder. But your love is constant. You never loved me less. You love me enough to grow me and change me. You love me enough to let me struggle. You love me enough to let me feel deep pain so that I can feel the same measure of grace. You have not left us as orphans. No indeed. You have loved us with a greater and purer and more steadfast love than we can even comprehend in our version of space and time. And the only response I can possibly give at this point, even though I don't always mean it, is "thank you." 

Love, Me 

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