Absence makes the heart grow fonder?

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
   Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?

(Psalm 22)

A few days ago I posted about the experience of God’s absence.

When I have spoken about this before – whether in conversation or in preaching – I have been struck by how many people have indicated the extent to which it resonates with their experience. It was no different when I posted the other day. In various ways folks responded – sometime very movingly – and indicated that what I said was connecting with them. Which makes me wonder why we do not speak about, write about or preach about these things more often.

As I mentioned the other day, it is not as if there is a lack of material in the Gospel narratives that deal with the absence of Jesus! And the experience of the absence of God is evident throughout scripture (just ask Job!) and not least in the Psalms.

So why do we seem to avoid discussing it?

Of course, as you may expect, I also get criticised by some for posting or preaching in this way! Some suggest that it is way too honest while others are quick to affirm that while we might feel that God is absent he is in fact present. Well yes, fine. But feelings are real too! And the psalmists did not shirk away from the honest, raw expression of how they felt, and neither did Job, nor Elijah when he tried to flee God and so on and on.

I am increasingly convinced that there is a need for more – not less – honesty and authenticity in our preaching, writing and discussions within the church. And I am sure that we need to talk about the doubts and darkness and so forth without always feeling that there are slick or simple answers or solutions.

Yesterday I was pondering once again the experience of the absence of God, and that commonly used phrase ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’.

‘Does it?’ I asked myself.

I am not convinced, at least not when it comes to the experience of God’s absence. And – truth be told – there is not much evidence of ‘fondness’ in the experiences of Job or the Psalmists, is there?

Yet, I still believe. I still believe that God is there, that God still cares, that I am not ultimately abandoned.

Faith and hope persist.

And I continue to praise God, not because I have been full of fond feelings these last few months, but partly as an affirmation of faith and hope, partly out of determined discipline, and partly as an act of defiance.

The darkness will not prevail!

The absence will not be permanent!

The suffering will not be forever!

These too will pass...

(I will return to praise and defiance and hope in a day or two).

So, if not fondness, what positive effect does the experience of God’s absence have?

I may not be – as yet – able to answer that fully. But I have become aware that those spiritual wells I have been able to dig and the cisterns that have been filled in the good times, can in fact sustain me in the not so good times. And I have learned to find the ‘absent’ God in the love and care of others. And I have become better at discerning his sometimes faint or fleeting presence in unexpected places or unexpected moments.

Early this morning I stepped outside our back door. This was not the act of prayerful contemplation, but an act of practical necessity: the dogs were in need of relief! It was – of course – still very dark, and the sky was clear. I looked up into the darkness and spent a moment marvelling at the thousands of stars I could see.

Absence may not make the heart grow fonder, but darkness allows these wee pinpricks of light to shine more brightly.