Sorrow, grief, lament. We all know those words well. And many of us have felt countless times the raw emotions that accompany pain, fear, or loss. Or we may have experienced shocking abandonment or aching betrayal. I know I have been there. Whatever the source, none of us are exempt from the deep grief and sorrow that results. Few things more profoundly confirm our suspicions that this is not how things are supposed to be, and so we wonder with C. S. Lewis. . .

…where is God? This is one of the most disquieting symptoms [of grief]. When you are happy, so happy that you have no sense of needing Him, so happy that you are tempted to feel His claims upon you as an interruption, if you remember yourself and turn to Him with gratitude and praise, you will be—or so it feels—welcomed with open arms. But go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find? A door slammed in your face . . . After that, silence. You may as well turn away. The longer you wait, the more emphatic the silence will become . . . Why is He so present a commander in our time of prosperity and so very absent a help in time of trouble? (C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed, pp. 5-7)

Even the most seasoned Christian has wrestled with the reality of what Lewis described. There are times when God seems more like an absentee landlord than the absolute Lord and Sovereign of the universe. Thus, it is in the dazed confusion of sorrow that we are left uttering similar words of Job: “Oh that I knew where I might find him” (Job 23:3). Where is God when we are dejected, desperate, and despondent? Perhaps absence doesn’t quite get to the heart of it. Does God need to be awakened from a careless and carefree slumber? Cognitively, we know that God is always there with us (Matt. 28:20). We also know the Almighty neither sleeps nor slumbers (Ps. 121:4). But in our wounded hearts it certainly doesn’t feel that way. When we are overcome by life’s ills, sometimes God seems to be unmoved, unconcerned, or at the very least, inattentive.

When God Seems Asleep

In Psalm 44, the psalmist seems to have felt this conclusion acutely. Israel had suffered a humiliating military loss (44:9), but where was God during the battle? Nowhere to be found. The Israelites sought God’s blessing for victory, but there was no reply. If God neither went out with Israel’s army nor answered the entreaty, then surely he must be asleep. In response to God’s dreamy disposition, the psalmist boldly speaks to God in a way that he hopes induces or at least produces a response, “Awake! Why are you sleeping, O Lord? Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever” (44:23).

How many times have we uttered similar words and prayers, hoping for God to respond? There was a time in my life when someone very close to me received a cancer diagnosis that crushed my heart and soul. I prayed for God to act, to change the situation around for the better. But he was silent. Surely, he must have known my suffering. I pleaded for his word of comfort, only to hear more deafening silence. In desperation, I asked God to shed his divine supernatural light into the vast darkness of my sorrow. Yet the reports from each doctor’s visit only held bad news. Where was God in all this?

God, who is supposed to be my refuge, strength, and very present help in trouble (Ps. 46:1), seemed asleep to me. When God seems asleep, we are not only left feeling rejected but also left asking the same questions the psalmist did. “Why do you hide your face? Why do you forget our affliction and oppression” (Ps. 44:24)?

When God Hides His Face

The face, according to Scripture, indicates attitudes and postures. From Scripture’s perspective, the face characterizes the true self. For example, Job says, “And he has shriveled me up, which is a witness against me, and my leanness has risen up against me; it testifies to my face” (Job 16:8),  Job’s leanness testifies to his face—that is, to his attitude, posture, and condition. Thus, it is the face that captures a person’s essence.

In Exodus 34, when Moses came down from Mount Sinai, his face was radiant—literally shining with light. This testified to the people that he had been with God. In Revelation, John describes the risen and triumphant Christ with a face that was “like the sun shining in full strength” which symbolically points to his resplendent holiness (Rev. 1:16). This radiant description parallels the Transfiguration in the Gospels, where: “. . . his face shone like the sun” (Matt. 17:2).  If the face captures a person’s essence, then it follows that the face also indicates intent. So, from the psalmist’s perspective God’s face, meaning his attitude and intention, toward Israel was one of complete abandonment and rejection.

We can identify with this, can’t we? Why does it seem that God hides his face from us and forgets our afflictions? Where do we find light when the light of his countenance appears to have fled from us? What do we do when God goes dark? We do as the psalmist did and pray, “Rise up; come to our help! Redeem us for the sake of your steadfast love!” (Ps. 44:26).

Holding Out Hope

The psalmist knows, despite the loss, silence, and suffering, that the Israelites are still God’s people, which means redemption is always a prospect. And that is true for us too. In our grief and doubts, we can still petition God to rise up and come to our help. We can experience the silence and seemingly hidden face of God while still holding out hope that he will eventually answer. That is what the psalmist hoped for, that God would eventually answer. And he does—in Jesus.

Jesus experienced the same things written about in Psalm 44: abandonment, humiliation, rejection, disgrace, and shame. In a very real sense, Jesus suffered defeat, just as Israel had experienced. And yes, even Jesus felt forsaken by the Father (Mark 15:34). But that was never going to be the ending. Jesus rose again, triumphant; and we rise with him. This is why we can confidently exclaim: We are not our losses. We are not our painful current situation. Our future is never determined by the emotions of sorrow and grief which have lodged hopelessness in our hearts. 

We would do well to remember that Jesus (like God in Psalm 44) also slept, albeit literally, when his disciples needed him (Mark 4:35–41). After a full day of teaching the crowds and his disciples, Jesus suggested that they cross the Sea of Galilee when evening had come. As a great windstorm arose, raging waves were breaking so high that the boat began filling with water. The disciples, including experienced fishermen in the group, knew this storm was threatening their very existence. They woke Jesus, who was asleep in the stern, saying, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing” (4:38)?  

How many times have we similarly cried out to God? When the winds and waves of perilous suffering come crashing into our lives, we also ask Jesus the same question: “Save me from this, Lord. Don’t you care that I’m perishing? Why won’t you do something?” Jesus’s reply to the disciples echoes similarly to us. “Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith” (Mark 4:40)? If we’re honest, those questions hit close to home and even sting. In life’s difficulties, we have a human tendency to become fearful and faithless. Jesus confronts our heart postures. But it is not in condemnation. Rather, it is so we can see him clearly.

When Jesus calmed the storm that evening, another storm was unleashed—not in nature, but in the disciples’ hearts. Their Jesus was too small, and they only realized that after he rescued them. That’s us. Jesus will allow seasons of suffering more often than not to unleash a storm in our own hearts. Once calmed, only then can we begin to see him clearly for who he really is . . . our Rescuer, Deliverer, and Redeemer.

Suffering, then, is not wasted. When we find ourselves in the deep waters of sorrow, grief, and lament, God is at work, growing and maturing us. He is deepening our trust, obedience, and understanding of who he is. It is in this way that we are able to stand firm—no longer ruled by storms of fear, emotional turmoil, or spiritual instability. When we are being tossed to and fro by the winds and waves of suffering, and when God seems silent, asleep, or hidden in the shadows, there is a confident hope every Christ-follower has. Our God hears. He sees. He is present. So take heart, our God will answer, and he will rescue.