In our quest for a sense of resolution, we may repeat the questions, ad nauseum, again and again, believing that if we ask often enough something will change, like children wearing down a weary parent with our requests, hoping that they tire of our persistence and give in.
But the questions that begin with, “Why...” seldom have answers, irrespective of the
number of times we ask, and persistently pounding on a brick wall won’t magically make a window appear. Though I keep asking, I’ve also learned to live with the brick wall.
In my own personal prayer life, I’ve asked those same nagging questions of,
“Why...?” In return, all I receive from the heavens is an extremely difficult and challenging silence. So I ask again, and again. But the silence persists.
I ponder the possibility of being deaf to God’s response, or wrestle with the chance that, perhaps, God is deliberately ignoring me. Then I begin to wonder if silence is the answer God provides. Okay...now what?
In my insatiable quest for answers, set against the frustrating lack of concrete
responses, I have uneasily grown accustomed to the silence. I find myself with no other recourse but to step back from my demands, accept the silence, and find a wary comfort that, even in that foreboding silence, I still perceive God’s presence.
And that will have to suffice, because it’s all I’m offered.