Where Are You, Lord?

Be merciful to me, O LORD, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and my body with grief. My life is consumed by anguish and my years by groaning; my strength fails because of my affliction, and my bones grow weak.  Because of all my enemies, I am the utter contempt of my neighbors; I am a dread to my friends-- those who see me on the street flee from me. I am forgotten by them as though I were dead; I have become like broken pottery. ~ Psalm 31:11-13


Today, I received another in a long line of disturbing phone calls from a dear friend who is at the end of her rope.  Hers has become a life of constant suffering, and she doesn't understand why that is so nor why God allows it to continue without ANY break or blessing.

To be honest -- I don't understand it myself.  I've been audience to her life scenarios and watched as she's been hit with trial after trial, hurt after hurt, setback after setback.  This sweet friend has been a strong, staunch woman of faith in the Lord, and over the years, she has helped to bring me through some rough, despairing times.  Yet I feel helpless and inadequate to help her now.   When I try to encourage her, no matter what I say, I feel as though my words have a false, dull ring to them, and she doesn't want to hear them anyway.  


She is at the point where her faith is gone, and she truly believes that not only is God punishing her, but that He has turned His back on her, becoming deaf to her prayers and blind to her presence before Him.  She believes she has lost favor with her King, Who no longer extends His golden scepter to her. She is convinced that she has, somehow or other, committed the unforgivable sin and that desperately reaching out to touch the hem of His garment to be healed is no longer an option for her.  


Sadly, my friend and sister-in-Christ has lost sight of her Father God Who loves, forgives and offers an endless supply of hope, mercy and grace.  Our phone conversation today ended with me in tears, brokenhearted for her. I just cannot believe that she has fallen headfirst into such a deep, dark pit of unbelief. And I can't seem to reach her.


Would you, dear bloggy friends and readers, please join me in boldly coming before our Lord at His throne of grace to pray for this precious woman? I cannot reveal her name, but I KNOW that God knows her name.  Even though I cannot convince my friend, I am convinced that He has not forgotten, abandoned nor forsaken her.  


I wrote this poem last year, when my friend had shared with me that late at night when she can't sleep (a common occurrence), she would go out into her backyard, look up into the night sky and just literally scream and cry out to God, begging Him to see and hear her. 

I dedicate this to her, and to all of those who falsely believe they are no longer daughters of the King, but unwanted orphans. 


Where are You, Lord?
Where can I find You?


How far does the universe stretch, Lord --
Behind the clouds,
Beyond the stars?


How far away are You --
Farther than the farthest planet?
Farther than I could ever comprehend.


Where are You, Lord?
I need to know.
I need to find You.


How close are You, Lord?
Closer than I could possibly imagine?


Close enough to hear my heart when it pounds?
Close enough to hear my moments of whispered prayers --
Or my times of agonized screams heavenward?
Close enough to see my seasons of bitter complaint?


Are You close enough to dry my constant flow of tears with Your fingers?


Where are You, Lord?
I need to know.
I need to find You.


What are You doing, Lord?
Can You see me?
Do You even remember and know me?


I cry out to You,
With my face towards the night sky.
I listen......
But it's only my own voice I hear, echoing back to me.


I reach out my hand to You --
It grasps nothing but the air.
The cool, night breeze brushes against my tear-stained cheek,
And through the fingers of my still outstretched hand.


But wait --


Is that You, Lord?
Are You right here?
Right now?


Where are You, Lord?
I need to know.
I need to find you.


Please -- find me, too?