Do you not think I'd love to speak with God? Do you not think I've sat and genuinely asked the sky (God) why he won't talk to me? If an intelligent designer exists, do you not think I would absolutely cherish conversation with him? Do you not understand how much insight I realize could be gained from such a phenomenal being? I would absolutely love to hear something from God.
Why won't God speak to me? Why is he invisible to me? Doesn't he love me?
In the Western Christian tradition there's a saint-mystic, St. John of the Cross, who wrote
The Dark Night of the Soul. Part of the concept is that oftentimes Christians go through periods of "spiritual darkness", where there is a sense of lonliness, of feeling distant from God and the Divine Presence. What the poem drives at is that it is in these crises of the soul, where we sense ourselves further from God than we have yet experienced, that we are growing and maturing. The poem also drives home that these times of darkness are not actually God's deprivation of presence, but actually experiences to drive us further into the Divine presence.
In a more poignant answer to you inquiry, God is with you. Beside you. God is present in your doubt, your questioning. Any sense of longing and loneliness, God is present there.
There is a story in the Old Testament, one of the most important to me for personal reasons, where the Prophet Elijah is on a mountain, seeking God out. Several things happen, Elijah hears a mighty wind, but God is not in the wind; there is an earthquake, but God is not in the earthquake. After these loud, boisterous events where God is not present, suddenly Elijah hears the faintest, gentlest, smallest whisper. God is in the whisper.
In the Eastern Christian tradition there is something known as Hesychasm, a spiritual tradition concerning interior prayer and breath where learning ceaseless prayer becomes like breathing. The word refers to
stillness, and is likely inspired by a passage in the Bible that says, "Be still and know I am God." Quieting the mind and the heart, stilling the breath, allowing oneself to sink into prayer; to bring one into
Theoria, the Vision of God. It's not about emotional euphoria, but allowing oneself to be overcome with prayer, real spiritual prayer that comes from the heart.
In all that I'm saying, which seems a little disjointed, is that often the experience of God is very different then what may be expected or anticipated.
In my teenage years I had an unexpected and deeply profound experience (and I use the word "experience" due mostly to not having a better word in its place) that I can only describe as an encounter with Christ. It was in total silence, there was no sensation or feeling, I had no "visions" I heard no voices. It was simply and inexplicably an encounter, exceedingly brief. It was, in fact, the moment in my life where Jesus went from being a revered character in the stories I read and heard and a distant god that I prayed to to being definitively real to me. It was a realness that seemed more real than the air I breath.
Now that's just a personal experience for me. How it is for others, I can't say. Neither can I say it should be like this for anyone else, and even though it was a truly profound experience for me I'm open to the possibility that it's entirely a imaginary or a self-induced trick of the mind--so I'm not using it as proof-positive for anything.
But, again, I think it's worth the point to say that God is often found in the places least likely to be found. A still whisper, in our intense doubt, in our frailty, in our weaknesses, in our loneliness, our despair, in our unanswered questions.
Now, I am convinced that God is with you, I believe whole-heartedly that God loves you. I believe that in your doubts, in your unbelief, in your questioning, and in every life experience you have, good and bad, God is truly present there with you and for you.
I'm not trying to convince you of this, I can't do that. I'm merely offering my thoughts, my experiences, and if any of it is helpful, then I'm glad.
-CryptoLutheran