A Letter To God From Troubled 20-Somethings

When we find ourselves face-to-face with uphill battles, we always ask, “Where is God?” and for some unfathomable reason you are nowhere to be found. It’s as if you suddenly decided to shut the doors of heaven when all hell was breaking loose.

Where are you in the midst of all the storms we brave?

It always begins with that one question. And, when we don’t get an answer instantaneously, that question will birth a string of never-ending questions, each query harder than the previous one. Why is life unfair?, Did I wrong anyone to deserve this?, Why are you tormenting me? or If you’re not responsible for these series of unfortunate events, then why are you not coming to my aid?

Sooner rather than later, we find ourselves entangled with far more questions than answers, more problems than solutions. What started out as a simple question became a profound apprehension that befuddle our hearts with doubt and cloud our judgment.

We might think it’s a test of faith, and so we begin to pray, like we’ve never prayed before, in the hope that you will finally hear our cries. But try as we might, we don’t hear your voice because what we truly listen to, besides our voice, is that of this world. Though we scream our lungs out, the shouts of those around us reverberate louder—crashing over us like the waves of the ocean to the rocky shores. Still, we pray.

If prayer doesn’t work, however, we resort to cursing or worse, finding other gods that we can cling on to like money or work or relationships. When all goes haywire and everything goes south, we like to put the blame on someone else. Our parents. Our government. You. We don’t know but it’s as if we were programmed to point fingers first before we fold them together to pray. We don’t know why we do it; we just do.

If not a test, then maybe it’s karma. Karma for being apathetic towards you during the good times and hypocrites during the bad. Karma for every promise that we made and broke. Karma for taking you and your love for granted.

You might be nodding in agreement reading line after line. You might be rejoicing thinking that we’ve finally come to our senses.

But God, we are still young and flawed. We might and we will make the same stupid mistakes over and over again— trapped in this loop— like a runner in a marathon constantly trying to gasp for air. And that is what really troubles us.

So, if this letter ever finds you, I hope you also find time to answer before it’s too late. Before we lose sight of what you call “hope.”