God has felt so far for too long.
He seems like nothing more than a distant relative. It's as if I know He loves me like an aunt I've only seen a handful of times "loves" me merely because we're of the same blood.
I know God loves me because I have faith in His word and His promise, but do I really believe it?
Do I fully trust that He loves me so much that His son died on the cross for my sins and conquered death for me?
To the Lord, it's as if I'm an estranged daughter to her father, an estranged sister to her sibling. I've been led astray by my own hurts and sadness to seek comfort in the things that entice me with the promise of instant satisfaction. It's easier to watch that show, listen to that podcast, or read that article to feel smart, clean the house to champion productivity, eat that piece of cake, drink that glass of wine... only to find that all of it is ephemerally satisfying and none of it eternally. It's harder to look inside of myself and acknowledge my mess, ask forgiveness for my wrongdoings, and lay my sin down at the Lord's feet.
And, yet again, I know a life pursuing God will be eternally satisfying because of His word, but am I willing to lay my life down for Him? And if I'm not, does that mean my faith in Him is actually not faith at all but a false sense of security in thinking that at least I won't be condemned to hell as long as I believe when I really don't?
I hate that I don't really know.
I hate that lately I only have questions and all of them are unanswered.
I hate that I'm clawing at the door, begging for it to open, only to find I'm at the wrong door, that God isn't there.
Where is the Father's voice?
Where is His overwhelming peace?
Where is His love?
Where are You, Lord?