I Cried Out, But No One Answered
I Cried Out, but No One Answered
Job 30:20
“I cry out to you, God, but you do not answer; I stand up, but you merely look at me.”
I was not wealthy.
Not surrounded by family.
But just as Job had been,
I was righteous—
following the Lord’s word to a fault.
And just as Job had been,
God was silent
as the devil brought my end.
What little I had
was stripped from me.
Lower than a pauper—
the fate God chose for me.
The weight grew heavier,
yet still, I let my faith shine—
a beacon for others.
I prayed for help.
Imagined God as my savior—
not religious,
but metaphorically so.
I thought He’d see my faith
and whisper, “Well done.”
But those words never came—
the silence louder than funeral drums.
Then He let the devil take my health.
Not just of the body—
but heart.
Soul.
The terrors He allowed
came not to comfort,
but to steal in the night.
The pain was unbearable.
The weight, crushing.
Still, just as Job,
I looked to the skies.
Laments turned to praise
for what little remained.
Maybe God was busy.
Or maybe… He didn’t care.
Because the lack of love I received
just wasn’t fair.
Once more, the Lord let the devil test me by fire.
He took my first son.
It was so cruel,
I wondered if God and Lucifer conspired.
The weight was no longer heavy—
it was unimaginable.
And in that moment,
I could not be like Job.
I could not be faithful.
I could not be righteous.
I was angry.
No longer praising His name
for blessings I’d never seen.
My friends, like Job’s,
were just as wretched—
accusatory, shaming.
I needed encouragement.
Found only lies.
And still, God did not descend
in a whirlwind to speak for me.
He did not correct them.
He did not defend me.
He did not say I was blameless.
He did not reward my faith.
He did not rebuke my despair.
My laments have always been
a cry dissipating in the air.
So don’t tell me
God hears my prayers.
Because when I cried out for Him—
He was never there.
I Cried Out, but No One Answered
Job 30:20
“I cry out to you, God, but you do not answer; I stand up, but you merely look at me.”
I was not wealthy.
Not surrounded by family.
But just as Job had been,
I was righteous—
following the Lord’s word to a fault.
And just as Job had been,
God was silent
as the devil brought my end.
What little I had
was stripped from me.
Lower than a pauper—
the fate God chose for me.
The weight grew heavier,
yet still, I let my faith shine—
a beacon for others.
I prayed for help.
Imagined God as my savior—
not religious,
but metaphorically so.
I thought He’d see my faith
and whisper, “Well done.”
But those words never came—
the silence louder than funeral drums.
Then He let the devil take my health.
Not just of the body—
but heart.
Soul.
The terrors He allowed
came not to comfort,
but to steal in the night.
The pain was unbearable.
The weight, crushing.
Still, just as Job,
I looked to the skies.
Laments turned to praise
for what little remained.
Maybe God was busy.
Or maybe… He didn’t care.
Because the lack of love I received
just wasn’t fair.
Once more, the Lord let the devil test me by fire.
He took my first son.
It was so cruel,
I wondered if God and Lucifer conspired.
The weight was no longer heavy—
it was unimaginable.
And in that moment,
I could not be like Job.
I could not be faithful.
I could not be righteous.
I was angry.
No longer praising His name
for blessings I’d never seen.
My friends, like Job’s,
were just as wretched—
accusatory, shaming.
I needed encouragement.
Found only lies.
And still, God did not descend
in a whirlwind to speak for me.
He did not correct them.
He did not defend me.
He did not say I was blameless.
He did not reward my faith.
He did not rebuke my despair.
My laments have always been
a cry dissipating in the air.
So don’t tell me
God hears my prayers.
Because when I cried out for Him—
He was never there.