From my seat in Kazan Cathedral I could see this. I could hear the voices of Orthodox believers, joining together to praise God. I watched as strangers lit candles and kissed icons, presenting their pleas and concerns to God and waiting to hear him speak. I suppose I came to do the same. I came here to find God. To hear him and to feel him and to know that whatever I am going through or feeling He is still with me.
But today my prayers felt less like a conversation and more like an echo; bouncing off the chaos and change of life and returning unanswered. And the harder I tried to pray, the more my words failed me. So I just sat there, quiet and desperate before God. Maybe that is what He wanted from me. Stillness. Emptiness. A heart that is finally tired enough to listen to the echoes.
I’m not afraid of His current silence, I’m just longing for the day of peace and clarity. I’ve given him my sin and fears and failures, so while my heart may feel the sting of abandonment, my mind remembers the faithfulness of my Father. And I'll wait.
It’s ironic though, isn’t it? How silence can deafen a person, stillness can shake the soul and emptiness can be the most important step toward wholeness? I do not understand the workings of God. I probably never fully will. But I know my sleeplessness is not without reason. So tonight I’ll sit here, quiet and emptied before my Savior and wait. God, may the echoes of silence speak.