“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46)

The darkest moments in our lives are often when we can no longer hear God’s voice or feel His presence. When we feel that God has seemingly left us and no longer cares for us, that feeling is deeply unsettling. When our faith is put to severe test, God may at times appear extremely distant—so much so that He seems entirely absent.

When Jesus was hanging on the cross, He fully shared in this heart-wrenching human suffering. Out of compassion for our suffering, He took upon Himself the full weight of all the evil and sin in the world

At that moment, Jesus cried out in a loud voice, experiencing what felt like total abandonment. When God remains silent, the burdens we carry can feel unbearably heavy. Deep within, we may cry out: Does God care? Is He deliberately remaining silent? If He is God, why does He not break His silence and intervene?

But let us ask a deeper question: who is it that causes God’s silence? Among all created beings, it is we who are most capable—and most often responsible—for silencing God!

Our indifference, our hardness of heart, our choices to pursue worldly attachments and turn away from Him, and our desire to detach ourselves completely and live independently of Him—all these build a wall that prevents us from hearing His voice.

Yet God is by no means a cold and indifferent observer. His Sacred Heart is continually pierced by our rejection.

And what wounds the Father’s Heart most deeply is the immense suffering He endured in handing over His only Son for our salvation. If the Father loves us enough to endure the unimaginable pain of giving up Jesus, how can we think that He does not care about the struggles in our lives? When God sees us suffer—especially when our souls are wounded—His Heart is deeply pierced.

Do we truly care about God’s feelings, and do we reflect on why He sometimes remains silent?

For our sake, both the Father and the Son went through an extremely painful process of “letting go.” The Father gave up His only Son, allowing Him to take on the brokenness of our humanity. As for Jesus, in order to fulfill His mission of redemption, He not only gave His life, but step by step relinquished all the “rights” of His humanity and divinity.

When He accepted the humiliation of the cross, He let go of His status and His divinity, not grasping at His equality with God.

He consciously surrendered His own will and human preference, praying: “Not my will, but Yours be done” (Luke 22:42). He let go of every possibility of saving Himself.

He also gave up His dignity, willingly accepting mockery, being spat upon, and being stripped naked—completely abandoning His right to be respected. When He was falsely accused, He remained silent, letting go of the right to defend Himself or demand earthly justice. Moreover, in His darkest hours, He gave up the comfort of His closest friends—who fell asleep, betrayed Him, or fled.

In the end, He faced the ultimate abandonment; as He cried out on the cross, He expressed the deepest human sense of desolation and forsakenness. He willingly bore the crushing weight of our punishment for sin, revealing to us the highest form of love.

Jesus’ journey to the cross is the ultimate archetype of “abandonment.” If God could abandon Himself so completely for our sake, why can we not do the same for Him?

We must embrace this spirit of “abandonment” which means complete surrendering to God. This is not a one-time decision, but a continual, daily process of diminishing the self to make room for God.

What, then, do we need to let go of?

First, we must let go of our insistence on “understanding everything,” no longer demanding answers for every suffering. We must also let go of our reliance on feelings, recognizing that even when we do not feel God’s presence, He is still truly there.

We need to relinquish our attachment to reputation, no longer seeking others’ respect and approval;

and let go of our personal preferences, no longer insisting that everything be done “my way,” learning to release resentment when things do not go as expected.

We must also surrender our own timelines, no longer clinging to when things “should” happen. We need to let go of spiritual pride, abandoning the illusion that we can achieve “perfection” by our own efforts, and instead rely completely on God’s grace.

Finally, we need to surrender all past regrets to God’s mercy, and let go of the illusion of control—tearing up the blueprint we have drawn for our lives, and allowing God to write a far more beautiful story for us.

When God’s silence becomes unbearable, let us look to the Cross.

Jesus shows us that in the face of feeling abandoned, the ultimate response is not despair, but to surrender our entire lives—completely entrusting ourselves into the hands of the Father.

By letting go of our need to take control of our lives, our rigid timelines, and our spiritual pride, our hands are no longer tightly grasping the things of this world, and can instead be filled with a greater grace—that is, God Himself.

Let us courageously tear up the life plans we have written for ourselves, and return our broken yet beautiful lives to the God whose Heart was pierced out of love for us.

Now, let us gaze upon Jesus on the cross and listen to His cry to the Father:

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46)

Reflection

In my daily life, how do my indifference, habits, or hardness of heart cause God’s voice to grow silent?

For my sake, Jesus gave up His rights, His dignity, and even His own will. What is the one “right,” “comfort,” or “attachment” I am most unwilling to surrender for Him?

When in my life have I most deeply experienced the “silence of God”? How did I respond at the time? After today’s reflection, do I have any new insights?

Today’s Prayer

Lord Jesus, when I face the agonizing moments of silence in my life, help me to remember Your piercing cry on the Cross. Forgive me for the many times I have, through indifference and hardness of heart, shut out Your gentle voice.

Grant me the grace to embrace Your spirit of total abandonment, and to trust wholeheartedly in the Father’s astonishing love. Now, I make the prayer of St. Ignatius my own:

Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my entire will, all I have and call my own. You have given all to me. To You, Lord, I return it. Everything is Yours; do with it what You will. Give me only Your love and Your grace, that is enough for me.

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