A God Who Feels Absence

A God Who Feels Absence

I have to believe He meant it—

“My God, why have you forsaken me?”

not a line to fulfill prophecy,

but a cry, raw and untamed.

To imagine He said it for the crowd—

for effect or theology’s sake—

would make Him a manipulator,

not the God who wept for Lazarus.

This was not play-acting at pain.

This was the moment of a-theism—

God Himself, gasping at God’s absence.

What else could we expect,

if to follow Him means a cross,

means feeling the silence,

the vast space of prayers unanswered?

We know this darkness,

know the hunger for words

to fill the hollow left by silence.

This is the essence of crucifixion—

to be stripped of every answer,

left to face the void,

trusting love to answer back.