“My God, My God…”
During the first two weeks of Lent, we’ve read reflections on lamenting the silence we often feel from God in the face of our difficult questions. How do we pray when it feels like God has forgotten us?
Now it’s your turn to consider the questions that toss and turn inside of your own heart. Every other Thursday during “Out in the Open”, we’ll pause from our typical testimonies and invite you to write out your own lament that mirrors the language of the Psalms we’ve been reading and focusing on.
This week, ponder Psalm 22 (if you haven’t read Jillian Timberlake’s piece, “Untangling the Whys” – start there). You’ve certainly asked why before, and you’ll no doubt ask it again. Take some time and write out your whys, starting with “My God, my God” as the psalmist did. Resist the urge to tie all of your doubts neatly with a bow, but consider how the psalmist was reminded of God’s promises and faithfulness in seasons past.
An example by Anna Goodner has been provided below. If you’d like to contribute your own lament inspired by this passage, we’d be happy to receive it at [email protected].
My God, my God
Where have you gone? Why do you sit by as my life crumbles, and my deepest fears become my reality?
Why are you silent in the face of my tears,
Your quiet louder than the sobs of my children, brokenhearted in my arms.
My fears have grown flesh and come to life and I cannot find you in the dark.
I have rallied your people to plead on my behalf and exerted the final dredges of my energy into the prayers I pour out to you.
I have declared you trustworthy and good to those who seek only their own selfish desires, and yet you remain silent as I beg you to speak.
Why do you ask me to trust you, then lead me on a path I cannot possibly walk?
Why do you allow injustice to stretch on, for liars to triumph, and selfish men to build their wealth while abandoning their family?
But you are my good and faithful Father. You hold all things together by your word.
Not a tear falls down my face that you do no see.
You hear the lies told about me in court. You have seen me discarded and treated as disposable, and yet you have called me as your own.
Stand up to defend me, God. You see those who have betrayed me and plotted my downfall. You have seen their schemes to usurp my children and leave me destitute. You are not deceived by their false pleasantries.
There is no truth hidden from you, no circumstance so unfair or outlandish or unexpected that you are caught off guard.
Even when I cannot hear you, you are leading.
When I cannot see you, you are still moving.
When I cannot imagine any way forward, you have already gone before me and made my way.
You are my Defender, Provider, Way Maker, and Friend.
Even when the ground beneath me seems to crumble and life as it was and the future I hoped for is snatched away – I will trust you.
For every stolen thing, you give back to me from your fullness. You never withhold what is good from your children. From the darkest places of heartbreak and loss, I will praise you: The God who sees; the God who saves.
I will tell stories of triumph and rescue and tales of unseen bridges built over impassible terrain. My children and their children will recount your faithfulness, and we will declare with all generations: Our God, the one who is trustworthy, has kept us always.
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