When God Felt Far Away: Praying Through Silence
If you have ever found yourself praying through silence — speaking into what feels like an empty sky — you are in far better company than you might realise.
Key Scripture
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish? I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, but I find no rest.” Psalm 22:1-2
Reflection
There is something startlingly honest about the way King David opens Psalm 22. He does not begin with praise or polished theology. He begins with a cry — raw, desperate, and completely unfiltered. The word “forsaken” is not mild. It carries the weight of abandonment, the ache of someone who has called out and heard nothing in return. If you have ever sat in the quiet and wondered whether your prayers were reaching anyone at all, David has already gone there before you.
What is remarkable, though, is this: David is still praying. That single fact holds more theological weight than it might first appear. When he writes “my God, my God,” he is not letting go of his relationship with the Lord — he is holding on to it with both hands, even in the dark. The very act of crying out to God during silence is itself an act of faith. You cannot feel forsaken by someone you have already dismissed. The grief of divine hiddenness is, paradoxically, a sign that you still believe He is there. Silence from God is not the same as absence from God, and learning to hold that distinction is one of the most important things a believer can do.
Theologians sometimes speak of the “hiddenness of God” — the mysterious reality that the Lord who is always present does not always make Himself felt. The prophet Isaiah wrote, “Truly you are a God who has been hiding himself” (Isaiah 45:15), and yet this same God is the one who promises never to leave or forsake His people (Deuteronomy 31:6). These two truths must be held together. God hides not to punish, but to deepen. He withdraws what C.S. Lewis once called the “sensible consolations” so that our faith is no longer rooted in feeling but anchored in faithfulness. The soil that looks dry to us is often where He is working most quietly beneath the surface.
Jesus himself cried out these very words from the cross — “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46). He did not quote Psalm 22 by accident. He entered the full depth of human desolation so that no valley we walk through is one He has not already crossed. When God feels far away, we carry the cross of Christ not as a symbol of abandonment, but as the ultimate proof that He draws nearest to us precisely when the silence is loudest. The Resurrection is God’s final answer to the cry of Psalm 22 — and it was worth the wait.
Prayer
Lord, I will be honest with You today — there are moments when You feel very far away. My prayers seem to rise and fall without response, and I struggle to sense Your presence in the way I once did. But like David, I am still here, still calling You my God, still holding on. I thank You that Your faithfulness is not dependent on my feelings, and that You are not absent simply because You are silent. Help me to trust You in the dark, to keep praying when the words feel hollow, and to remember that Jesus Himself cried out in desolation and was not forsaken in the end. Draw near to me, Father, even when I cannot feel it. Anchor my faith not in emotion, but in the unchanging truth of who You are. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Today’s Action Step
Set aside ten minutes today to pray using Psalm 22 as your own voice — read it aloud slowly, let David’s words give shape to your own ache, and then close by reading verses 24-31, where his lament turns to praise. Let the structure of the psalm teach your heart that silence is a season, not a sentence, and that praying through it is the very thing that carries you to the other side.
If this devotional resonated with you, we would love to hear how God has met you in seasons of silence. Share this post with someone who may need it today, or leave a comment below — your story might be the encouragement someone else is waiting for.