There are moments in life when the soul grows silent.
When everything we thought we knew about faith is stripped away.
The prayers once spoken with fire now echo in a void, unanswered.
The worship songs that once lifted our hearts now sound like hollow melodies.
We find ourselves staring at the ceiling at night, whispering, "God, where are you?"
And beneath that whisper lies another question we're often too afraid to say out loud.
Why am l still carrying so much pain if I've already met the cross?
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