Have you ever felt disillusionment with God, holding the story of a life you no longer recognize? Have you sought for answers only to wonder, “where is God in the silence?” We all came to Jesus with broken pieces of ourselves we hoped He would heal. Whether physical healing, illness, addictions, financial woes, relational brokenness, or sundry other wounds, our grief, loss, and hopelessness drove us to Him for wholeness—for new life.
But somewhere along the journey we find this new life strewn with disappointment; our expectations at odds with the God we believed would transform our pain.
Sitting with the shards of broken dreams and fragile hopes of a story I would rather burn than live, I wonder, where is the God who makes everything new? Some days feel more akin to wandering through the tombs of the dead than marveling in the joy of the Lord.
Less than a week from remembering the crucifixion, I still ponder the turn of events from a welcoming, rejoicing crowd proclaiming Hosanna, to one just days later crying, “Crucify Him!”
All throughout Jesus’ ministry, people came to Him for healing, teaching, even to raise the dead. Crowds followed Him to hear words of life, of a kingdom to come which many hoped would bring deliverance from the oppression of Rome.
The constant demands of the crowds often sent Christ into solitary places of prayer and communion with the Father for rest and direction. Even as He sought these times of necessary refreshment, His disciples still found Him with pressing needs. Yet upon His arrest and subsequent crucifixion, the once adoring crowds and even His own disciples deserted Him. (Mark 14:40)
Reading the story again, I lingered with a reality which resonated with my own hard story.
After Jesus died, Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus took His body from the cross, wrapped it in linen, and placed it in Joseph’s tomb. Mary Magdalene saw where they buried Jesus. She and Mary, the mother of Jesus wept at the tomb, also bringing spices to anoint His body. Here, after so many sought Jesus in His life on earth, only a few came to Him in His death.
But why would they come to Jesus when there was no longer anything to be gained from Him?
My mind refused to let go of this question. Upon Jesus’ death, only Jospeh, Nicodemus, and a few women came to Jesus, full of grief, confusion, and disillusionment—with no hope of comfort, much less anything more.
Sitting with this scene, I considered my own times of grief, loss and disillusionment over a story which veered from my desired narrative. Was I like the once adoring crowds, or even the disciples distancing myself from Christ once my expectations lay scattered, or was I more like the few who drew near despite no hope of relief?
“He went on to say, “This is why I told you that no one can come to me unless the Father has enabled them.” From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him. “You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve.”
Both the crowds who followed Jesus and His own disciples had expectations for Jesus as the Messiah. Their vision included an eternal, all-powerful Deliverer who would overthrow Rome and set up the new kingdom. Despite Jesus proclaiming on multiple occasions that He would be handed over to the religious leaders, condemned, put to death, but raised to life again in three days, none grasped the truth of His words.
Incapable of seeing past their misguided expectations, they refused to believe the women even when they told them the angel’s message from the tomb of Christ’s resurrection. (Matthew 28:5-6)
In times of prolonged suffering, chronic illness, or complicated grief, we have expectations of Jesus too. Most often those expectations, like the disciples’ expectations, involve deliverance: relief, healing or transformed circumstances.
What the disciples failed to understand was that Jesus accomplished all they hoped and even more—but not in the way they envisioned.
So, too, we question where God is when our expectations sit unrealized, especially in our suffering. Which drew me back to Joseph, Nicodemus, and the few women who chose the presence of Jesus even when He lay dead.
In one of my darkest times, when I felt most alone, and God seemed silent, remembering His promise never to leave me or forsake me, I realized His love even in silence rests upon me. A love stronger than death needs no words to express its presence.
In our suffering we must learn to leave our expectations at the foot of the cross, willing to come to Jesus not for answers or fulfillment of our desires, but for His presence, holding space for love in the presence of grief and pain.
Oscar Romero said, “Some things can only be seen through eyes that have cried.” Receiving the full impact of the fulfillment of all God’s promises made possible only through the resurrection, can only be seen through tears.
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Sometimes anger and resentment can result from unmet expectations. I know I have experienced that! But you remind us that God knows we’ll have troubles in this life but His ways are forever sovereign. “A love stronger than death needs no words to express its presence.” Oh, yes and amen!
Lynn you are so right, I have fallen prey to anger and resentment when my expectations of God have not been met. Yet He is still so kind, as He gently leads us to a place of true comfort our expectations can never provide.
Oh Donna, this is a powerful post. Your concluding thoughts resonate deeply with me: “In our suffering we must learn to leave our expectations at the foot of the cross, willing to come to Jesus not for answers or fulfillment of our desires, but for His presence, holding space for love in the presence of grief and pain.” Amen, dear friend.
Thank you, Lois for your kind encouragement. I praise God the thoughts here resonated with you. We all have expectations in our suffering, but until we relinquish them to God, we will struggle to find comfort.
Thank you so much for this beautiful blog.
What you wrote really touched me. It feels like you are describing my life. That God can seem silent, and that our expectations are not always fulfilled—but that through that silence we learn to seek Him for who He is, not for what He gives.
And yet… there are moments in between when I find it so hard. Especially when I look back, it can bring me to tears and pain. I wonder—do you experience that too? And how do you deal with those moments? Do you allow the feelings to be there, or do you try to move through them by holding on to faith?
Sending you much love from the Netherlands,
Aritha
Aritha, I praise God you found some solace here in these words. So often we don’t share about our hard places believing no one else will understand or is experiencing such things. My own dark and silent places are teaching me more about God than perhaps any other. At times God chooses to remove the experience of His “felt” presence from us. His presence is still there, because He promised He would be. But we simply cannot “feel” or experience it as before. I believe this is a time for maturity, as when a mother must wean her child. It can be excruciating for the child to have this comforting intimacy withdrawn, yet in the days to come they learn contentment and comfort in her presence distinctly more intimate. So it is with God. We learn to trust His presence without the need for confirmation, to know His love without the experience of it, and to hear Him speak even in the silence. When we learn these things, no suffering will ever shake our faith in Him.
I do still find it hard, the silences wound me at times because I have a traumatic history of abandonment and neglect. Perhaps that is His way of healing me from that. But in the hardest times, I choose to remember nothing can separate me from His love, “for I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature shall be able to separate me from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus.” Romans 8:38-39
God is always present, and always speaking, but He doesn’t always use words.
Sending my love to you today, in His name!
There are times in life, we truly do not understand what God is doing nor where He is leading. This post brought to mind Psalm 77:19 – “Your road led through the sea, your pathway through the mighty waters – a pathway no one knew was there!” (NLT) I am so grateful even then, we can trust Him with our lives. {hugs}
Thank you, Joanne for reading! Indeed, we walk hard paths that we do not always understand the purpose of, nor where they might lead. Trusting God can be difficult in those times, but that is when we see His faithfulness. Psalm 77:19 is one of my favorite verses, thank you for sharing that!