Repenting the Silence.

Today has been a day of repentance. Repentance, I regret, doesn't happen in my life every day. But today, I confessed substantial unbelief to God. But, I suppose, that's not exactly where I want to begin.

The last few weeks have been a roller coaster to say the least. I'm graduated. I'm roommate-less. I'm working. I'm in counseling. I'm working. I'm saving. I'm confused. I'm lonely. I'm hopeful. I'm … well, I guess that, too, depends on the day. I've been consistent in my time with God (what does that phrase even mean? "Time with God"? So loaded.) and I've been faithful to wake up every morning and study the Word. But my prayer life has been rather silent. No, seriously. Silent. I sit there in silence. I think in silence. I don't speak a word apart from an occasional sigh or random request for something I thought of in my silence. Its pretty pathetic, really. I sit and look out the window as if He's out there, wondering why He's not engaging me and not caring to engage Him myself.

But recently, I've asked Him for a few things that are dear to my heart. My heart's a little achey, and I asked Him for some relief. And He gave it.

So today, like I said, was a day of repentance, and today I started to pray again. I opened my mouth and spoke into the silence of the morning and told God I was sorry. "I forgot that prayer worked," I said. And then, for this too, I repented. See, whenever God responds to me in prayer, I feel as if He's cosmically "working". Working like a system or a factory or a plant or a math equation. I get excited because it "worked". How appalling can that get? I might as well have said, "Gee, God, I'm so glad You worked". Pittiful.

Out of the silence of the morning I confessed to God that its not that I forgot prayer worked, but I denied that He cared to respond to me. And this offense is worse than the first. See, I thought I was asking all the right things. Good things. Holy things. And He wasn't doing a thing to answer my words. So I shut my mouth. Its not that something in the system was broken. In my mind, the Listener didn't give a damn. And for this, too, I asked forgiveness.

How often are we here? How often do we stop believing that God actually cares for His people? That He deals with His people in abundance and goodness and fruitfulness? For me, its been a while in the land of unbelief and returning to right thinking is going to take some time, effort, remembrance, and belief; belief, I don't know I can always muster.

But, I suppose, I know Who I'll ask. Because He cares.