The Shadow Box

Some days, Life feels foreign.

I feel like a stranger to everything
that  has previously felt familiar
and comforting; and "home". I feel
so far  away from people I am
connected to - almost disconnected -
as if I'm looking at their lives going
on as normal from behind a thick
pane of glass, and they are oblivious.

On their side, life is the usual bright,

certainty-filled schedule, carrying on 

as normal, full of bustle and activity                                                        

and purpose; and laughter and sunshine                                                        

and conversation.                                                       

                                                      

On my side, there is S I L E N C E.

And space, and nothingness. Just 

the sound of my own breathing.

S t i l l n e s s.

I am standing still, in a Shadow Box,                                                      

merely watching the visuals of life                                                        

unfolding on the other side of the                                                        

glass; Time seems only to apply to                                                         

what I see - rather than to me. I am                                                        

just an observer.                                                        

Most times, the Shadow Box is a secret                        

refuge, for the Shepherd leads me there                        

and it is safe. It is comfortingly quiet                        

and still, because He is in the silence, and                        

the shadows lean in,  l  i  s  t  e  n  i   n  g                       

for the voice that brings peace.                       

But sometimes, the Silence is deafening. 

The walls of the Shadow Box feel 

impenetrable and ancient, unyielding.

The air is the temperature of Absence 

and the shadows stand aloof, cold and 

distant, rugged up in their solitude. 

I feel like I cannot reach Him - the roof
above my head is muting everything,
keeping me in isolation. Suddenly His
divinity and my humanity are in plain
contrast. I am reminded of my flesh and
blood, my substance, in the Silence. I
feel like screaming: Where are you?
My God, my God, why have you
forsaken me?!    


I think I am beginning to understand a little bit more of what Jesus felt, as a man of flesh and blood, in the moments when He was hanging on the cross. 

Not that I will ever understand them in full. 

But if the Son of God, in human form - one of us - experienced the silence of the Father at all, in the moments or days in our lives when it feels as though God has withdrawn himself, we can look at Jesus, and find comfort in his anguish: "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?". He didn't hide it. He experienced it and he addressed it by questioning it.

Sometimes, the stark contrast between intimacy - the moments when the presence of God is so tangible, it feels like Jesus is walking right beside you, speaking with you - he's there - and abandonment - the moments when he feels distant and silent, and withdrawn,  - can be confusing.

But I think I have been learning more about this relationship I have with God through the tension of this contrast, and growing to understand that there may be a lesson in His 'absences'...
I know now that I am not just in a relationship with Him. He is also building a relationship with me. 
And he actually chose me first - loved me first. So if anything, He's building something, and a revelation has recently begun to unfold, that has made me view 'Shadow Box' days in a brand new light.

They were recently summed up for me in this passage of scripture:

Then Jesus left Galilee and went north to the region of Tyre and Sidon. A Gentile woman who lived there came to him, pleading, "have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David! For my daughter has a demon in her, and it is severely tormenting her."

But Jesus gave her no reply - not even a word. Then his disciples urged him to send her away. "Tell her to leave," they said. "She is bothering us with all her begging."

Then he said to the woman, "I was sent only to help the people of Israel - Gods lost sheep - not the gentiles." But she came and worshiped him and pleaded again, "Lord, help me!"

"It isn't right to take food from the children and throw it to the dogs," he said.

"Yes, Lord," she replied, "but even dogs are permitted to eat crumbs that fall beneath their master's table."

"Woman," Jesus said to her, "your faith is great. Your request is granted." And her daughter was instantly healed.
~ Matthew 15:21-28

...But Jesus gave her no reply - not even a word. #silentdays
Q. Was Jesus testing this woman's faith? What was the purpose of His silence?

...then he said to the woman, "I was sent only to help the people of Israel - God's lost sheep - not the gentiles."
Q. Apparent rejection. What were her feelings?
...But she came and worshiped him and pleaded again, "Lord, help me!"

{But she came and worshiped him.}