🕯️ When the Silence Feels Unfair
There are days when the silence feels holy. And there are days when it feels cruel. I once prayed daily for two months with someone who was drowning in spiritual darkness. He despaired. He was tempted to do harm. But the night passed. Slowly, quietly, it lifted. And he emerged with light in his eyes. I was grateful. But I was also haunted. Because I’ve read the letters of Mother Teresa. I’ve seen what it means when the silence doesn’t lift. When the night stretches into decades. When the soul keeps loving, keeps serving, keeps praying—and still feels nothing. It seems unfair. Why should one soul suffer for fifty years while another finds dawn in eight weeks? Why should consolation visit some and bypass others? Why should the God who promises presence feel so absent? I don’t have answers. But I do have stories. I’ve seen the light return after two months. I’ve seen it flicker after years. I’ve seen it hide behind caregiving, grief, and quiet fidelity. And I’ve seen it burn...