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Ronald Robertson

Dr. Aaronn Avit Ajeng

Researcher
  • ExpertiseBiology and Biochemistry
  • Curriculum VitaeDownload here

Finding God in Silence and the Layers of Our Lost Selves

In life’s hardest times, the silence of God can feel unbearable. Many of us, like David, have experienced seasons where we cry out and feel only stillness in return. David’s words in Psalm 22:1-2, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” resonate deeply, capturing the experience of feeling abandoned.


One Sunday, I felt this silence sharply. I was supposed to serve at church but found myself avoiding it, convincing myself I was too “unworthy.” I told myself I was sick and ignored the calls from the ministry team, feeling unfit to serve. Yet, that day, God spoke louder than ever—not through words, but through an act of grace. My dad, who I hadn’t expected to take such a step, was baptized. It was like God was saying “I’m still here. I’m still working on you—and on your family.”


Seeing my dad baptized reminded me of how God holds us all, no matter how distant we may feel from Him or from others. It was a powerful reminder that no matter how lost we may feel, God is always seeking us, always wanting to bring us closer to Him—and to each other.


Before this, I had seen a vision of a man holding my younger self, cradling my wounded, lost parts. It was Jesus, I realized, holding the “lost sheep” of myself that I had hidden behind layers of shame and fear. That vision reminded me that God wasn’t waiting for me to be “good enough.” He was already there, seeking me out, holding even the parts of myself I struggled to accept.


As I prayed for my family, asking for a revival, I felt something shift within me—a glimmer of hope that this could be the start of something greater. There’s still much to work out, and healing may take time, but I believe God is working through these small, powerful moments, guiding us toward reconciliation.


God, our heavenly Father, seeks each of us as we are, without demands or expectations. This desire for closeness, which I felt so deeply as a child, is fully met in God’s love, even if it’s taken time to fully realize it. In witnessing my father’s baptism, I felt a tangible reminder that God is capable of softening hearts, bridging divides, and calling us to deeper connection—not only with Him but also with each other.


When God’s silence feels overwhelming, remember that it may be preparing us for these steps of faith, inviting us into moments of revival and reconnection. Each act of grace, however small, can be a step toward healing and toward the closeness we desire with both our earthly and heavenly Fathers. God’s love, patience, and guidance are there, not just to heal us individually but to knit our families together in faith.


David’s journey through silence led him back to a deep, unshakable trust in God’s faithfulness. God’s silence wasn’t abandonment but a call to examine the layers I’d built—the doubts, shame, and feelings of unworthiness. It was an invitation to let Him carry those parts, not because of who I am, but because of who He is.


If you’re navigating God’s silence, know that He sees every hidden layer. Even when we feel lost or unworthy, He seeks us out, just as the shepherd leaves the ninety-nine for the one. Sometimes, thesilence is a bridge to a deeper faith, a path to discovering that our worth is anchored in His love, not our performance.

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