An emotional and philosophical exploration of divine silence in a chaotic world
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. But what if absence just makes you feel…abandoned?
You light the candle. You whisper the prayer. You try to believe in something bigger than your rent, your inbox, and the pit of dread that opens every time the news loads. And yet, nothing answers. No signs. No miracles. No gentle whisper in the storm. Just static. Just silence.
If God’s not dead, then where the hell is He?
Not in the hospitals. Not in the border camps. Not in the thunderous echo chambers of politics where people speak in His name but act in their own. He’s not in the sky anymore—Elon took care of that. He’s not in your phone either, unless He’s posing as an Instagram life coach promising “vibrations” in exchange for $9.99 a month.
This isn’t atheism. This is ghosting.
We matched on the app of religion. We flirted with ritual. We texted at midnight when we were lonely and left on “read.” And now we’re in that hazy limbo where we don’t know if we’re being tested… or just ignored.
We used to scream “Why me?”
Now we whisper “Are You there?”
And then we wonder if we’re just talking to ourselves, an echo chamber with stained glass.
But maybe that’s the point.
Maybe the silence is the answer.
Maybe divinity isn’t in what we hear—but in what we do when we hear nothing.
Maybe faith isn’t obedience but perseverance: showing up to the conversation even when it’s a one-sided monologue.
Maybe God’s gone quiet so we can learn to speak.
Not at each other, not for Him, but to each other.
In the hungry look of the stranger.
In the trembling voice of the addict.
In the laughter of someone who still dares to believe in joy.
Or maybe God just ghosted us because we wouldn’t stop posting fake versions of ourselves online.
Honestly? Can’t blame Him.
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