13. 🪦 Show Me the God Who Stayed

Where was He when I begged?
When I bled?
When I bent into pieces and nobody came?

This isn’t a crisis of belief.
It’s a crisis of abandonment.

Because I never stopped believing in something.
I just stopped pretending the silence didn’t hurt.

😶 When Silence Was the Only Sermon

They told me God is always listening.
But when I screamed into my pillow at 2am,
clutching nothing but memories and meds,
all I got back was static.

They told me He was near the brokenhearted.
But my heartbreak echoed.
And the echo came back empty.

I prayed with skin trembling.
With a body that held every scar like scripture.
And all I wanted—
was for someone sacred to stay.

🧠 Psychological Insight:

For trauma survivors, silence is never neutral.
It sounds like betrayal.
It feels like proof.

You don’t need a miracle when you’re drowning—
you need a hand.
A whisper.
Something more than a church telling you to just “believe harder.”

🩸 Not About Blame—About Absence

I’m not here to rage against God.
I’m here to ask:
Where the hell was He
when everything I loved collapsed?

Where was He
when the church locked its doors
and I was outside sobbing in the rain
with sin-soaked shoes and trauma-stained hands?

I didn’t need a sermon.
I needed a sign that I wasn’t invisible.

💔 For the Ones Still Waiting

This is for:

• The ones who prayed and got silence
  
• The ones who believed and still broke
  
• The ones who begged for comfort
  and got bruises disguised as lessons
  

This isn’t about losing faith.
It’s about losing trust
in the kind of love that disappears
the moment you get hard to hold.

🙏 The God I’m Still Looking For

I don’t want the God of thunder.
I want the God who whispers back.
The one who doesn’t ghost you
just because your prayers aren’t pretty anymore.

💬 Final Reflection:

Show me the God who stayed in the silence.
Who didn’t flinch at my grief.
Who didn’t need me to clean up my language
before He called it prayer.

🧨 Closing Hook:

I don’t want proof that God exists.
I want proof He didn’t abandon me.
And until then—
I’ll keep praying with my bruises.
Because that’s where I last saw Him bleeding, too.