When There’s Only Silence

God, I talked to You today.

I mustered up some courage that has been absent, laid my pride at my side, and ordered my distractions to bother someone else for a change. I still couldn’t really look You in the eye, but I know You never took Your tender ones off of me.

It had been a while, and it’s what I thought what You wanted me to do. I thought You were the Heavenly Father who was supposedly calling His children to come hang with Him. I guess I believed that, I just didn’t understand why our conversation was so one-sided.

I mean, shoot, I brought it all.

I brought my issues that were supposed to be hurdled over and far behind me already.

I brought my broken relationships that seem to crumble just a little bit more every time I reach for another bite. I brought the pain that I’ve ingested, allowed to digest, and now discovered it’s been eating me alive.

I brought my hypocrisy that I’ve been trying so hard to hide, but my shadow doesn’t leave quite so easily. I brought my pride that grows like mold and affects every aspect of my life.

I brought my fears of what tomorrow will leave at my doorstep while I sit paralyzed by the window, too afraid to answer the door and receive the unsolicited package.

I brought my regrets that have been hitching a ride on my weary shoulders. I brought their good friend, shame, whom I can’t seem to shake off either. Parasites.

I brought the guilt. Rumor has it that guilt isn’t of You, though at this point, if I’m being honest, I’m doubtful. Oh yeah, and speaking of which, I brought my doubt which traps me in a steel-barred cage if the thought of trusting You ever crosses my mind.

I brought it all.

I ran towards every issue I could see, gathered everything that was in my reach, and carried as much as my weary arms could hold.

With a strange mixture of dirty sweat and raw tears in my pores, I stumbled in front of You, stuck my tongue out at you (sorry), and threw them stubbornly at Your feet.

And here we are.

I quickly remembered my word for the year was pause, so I decided, “Hey, maybe I should give that a try.” So I did. I paused to let you to get a word in, (which was pretty difficult considering my complaints found their way into the empty space) (sorry) and what did I hear from you when I finally paused?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Silence.

And I was mad. Gosh darn it I was angry.

God, why don’t You speak? I thought this was what You wanted. Here I am with a tear stained face and a slobbery chin and I’m pouring every ounce of my heart out and laying it all on the table and now I’m giving You the rare chance to speak and You’re hiding Yourself from me and, and, AND…”

And then I realized why You were silent.

I brought all this pain and sin and turmoil and chaos and burden and emptied out my tear ducts and wanted you to respond.

But You already did.

You spoke and all of those things were crushed by your Son as He declared sweet, sweet victory over it all. The lengthy veil that separated me from my Redeemer was torn in two with a single breath. You spoke and death was defeated. You spoke and your son strutted out of that short-lived grave.

You spoke and my failures ran for cover. You spoke and the light of grace was powerful enough to change my darkened heart. You spoke and the mockery of evil was buried under the weight of your power. You spoke and my shame was speechless. You spoke and my brokenness had nothing left to say.

“It is finished.”

The cross already had the final word, I was just too much of a punk to hear it.

You spoke, and there was only silence.

And, as it turns out, silence is the most beautiful sound.