I’ve submitted this post as part of a synchroblog project organised by author Sarah Cunningham. Her aim is to collate and capture beautiful stories of folk who follow God and live their adventures with him. Find out more about her book Inciting Incidents here or click here to read more stories.
If my days were categorised – if someone was compiling a record of days good and bad, successful and not successful -today would undoubtedly go down as a bad, unsuccessful day. Put bluntly, it sucked. From 6.52am, when I got soaked to the bone on my way to the station, I knew it was going to be bad. And it was.
Superficially, I spent most of the day keeping myself to myself, not really saying a lot and just trying to get through it. Internally, I was raging. Fuming. My mind was throwing fists, and all of this anger was aimed firmly in one direction.
I’m pretty sure I even threw a few swear words around in my mind whilst I was silently screaming at Him. Why am I having such a bad day? Why are things so tough? Why are my friends hurting? Why is so much of this life following you so difficult? Why?
I’ll be honest, I didn’t really leave much time for God to answer me. And by the time I was on the train home, 12 hours after the downpours began to hit, I was mentally and physically exhausted. I sat in my seat and stopped. I didn’t read. I put my headphones in and shut my eyes.
The battle raged on in my mind. Me: Why? God: Nothing Me: Why this? God: Nothing Me: Where even are you? God: Nothing. Infuriating.
Until I realised that, perhaps, just maybe, I wasn’t letting God answer. So I stopped. I silenced the cries within me. And I heard nothing. But it was a different kind of nothing. I’m not sure what kind of nothing it was, but this kind of nothing felt different. Safe, almost.
Perhaps the nothing was actually everything, God. Perhaps, a bit like being caught in the eye of a storm, I felt nothing because the big stuff was going on around me, and I was safe in the middle. Perhaps. I don’t know. But what I do know is that that nothing, that silence, felt unlike the one before. And I believe that is God.