Has God Stopped Looking for You?

Dealing with fears of abandonment and loneliness in a spiritual wasteland.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve started and stopped writing various articles. I have a half-baked piece on narcissists, and another about how to handle being ghosted. But because I’m still processing many of my own ideas, the work is slow and difficult. Not to mention, these aren’t the cheeriest of topics.

In hopes of finding inspiration, and of covering topics my readers are interested in, I tweeted, “Ask me theology questions. I need inspiration for my newsletter. It doesn’t have to be something you don’t know the answer to, just a topic or question you find interesting or important.”

In response, I received a multitude of thought-provoking questions. Some I don’t feel qualified to answer. Others I need to chew on a bit longer. One struck a nerve though, and I felt compelled to write to you about it. PeaceInTheGreen asked:

“How do you deal … when it appears no shepherd is coming to look for you, not even the Great Shepherd?”

Not long ago, I visited the headquarters of Texas EquuSearch and met with its founder, Tim Miller. Tim’s daughter, Laura, vanished in 1984 and her bones were found two years later in a field along with three other women. Ever since, her father has been searching. He searches for missing children and adults. He searches for the loved ones of the brokenhearted. He does all this in honor of his daughter and out of an unspeakable longing for justice and truth.

As we sat across the table, I couldn’t help but notice Tim’s weathered hands. Thousands of times they had held a horse’s reigns as he searched through fields, woodlands, and wetlands. Thousands of times they had hugged grieving parents, panicked spouses, and frightened children.

Some of the people Tim searches for are crime victims, like his daughter Laura. Others are runaway teens, and still others are confused seniors who have forgotten who and where they are. Despite the missing persons posters haunting the walls of his office, and file cabinets full of cases all around us, Tim’s workspace is buzzing with love and determination. As heartbreaking and harrowing as these missing persons’ stories are, someone is looking for them. Someone misses them. Someone loves them. Someone is waiting for them to come home.

Back in December, a boy from England who had been missing for six years turned up in France. Alex Batty ran away from his mentally unstable mother who had abducted him. After a concerned deliveryman picked him up, Alex texted his grandmother, saying, “I want to come home.”

This sense of being lost – this agony of being dislocated – bleeds beyond the tragic number of those who are physically missing. A person can be lost and yet standing right in front of us. To feel spiritually abandoned or emotionally homeless is a terrible thing as well. When we’re feeling lost and distressed, having someone come looking for us can mean the world. A text from a friend, a call from a pastor, or an email from someone who noticed you weren’t at church; these little acts of searching can pull us back into who we are and where we’re supposed to be. It reminds us that we are loved, needed, and wanted in our community.

But what do we do when no one is searching?

What if no one notices we’re lost on the inside?

What will we do if not even God wants us back?

First, my friend, I think we must remember that darkness can play tricks on our eyes. We may feel that God has abandoned us. We may fear that he no longer loves us. But fears and feelings aren’t facts. They’re real and they matter, but they aren’t always true. God remains God no matter how we may feel about him. He is unchanging no matter how our situation may have changed. He is faithful even when we are faithless.

Second, we can take comfort in the fact that we long for rescue. As C. S. Lewis’s metaphorical lion, Aslan, puts it, “You would not have called to me unless I had been calling to you.”

You see, it is God who puts a love for him in our hearts. It is he who gives us faith, and he who calls us home. If you are missing God, then God is missing you. If God were not your Father, you would not feel a need for him. You wouldn’t be angry at him or feel rejected by him if you did not love him and he you. If you had no faith and were abandoned by the Shepherd, you’d be content in the wilderness instead of longing for your pasture. That pang in your chest, that yearning in your soul, that hunger in your gut is not indigenous to your heart. It is the voice of the Holy Spirit calling you and drawing you back to himself.

I tackled this topic further in my upcoming book, Defiant Joy.

“In your darkest moments—when you’re hemorrhaging fear, wrecked by abandonment, or even despairing at life itself—you can take comfort knowing that your cries to God are evidence and proof that he is crying out to you. He is drawing you close and propagating the seeds of faith in your heart, because he loves you.” – Defiant Joy, Fumbling for Faith, page 69

Subsequently, no matter what our situation or how long we’ve wandered, you and I need never fear calling out to God. If you feel rejected by him, tell him. If you fear he’s abandoned you, ask him to make his presence felt. If you’re angry at him, pour out your frustration and pain in prayers.

When we’re lost – whether figuratively or literally – God knows exactly where we are. He will come for you. He is with you. He will lift you up upon his shoulders and lovingly carry you home.

“We are not a people who will walk through this wilderness forever. We are not alone in the wasteland, wandering aimlessly. We have a destination. We know where we are going. Like Christ, we have a joy set before us, and the founder and perfecter of our faith is our joy and consolation. He waits for us with open arms, patiently, lovingly, earnestly calling us home.” – Defiant Joy, Joy Taking Root, page 190

You can read more about my upcoming book here.

Much love,

Jenn

PS: If you have a question or topic you’d like me to tackle, please send me an email or comment on this post below. I’d love to hear from you.