I am numb and cannot express how I feel. I smile at those who walk by and pretend that all is well. I make light of my interest in Jesus and pretend that what is going on does not affect me. Inside I am dying, wondering why I followed the man in the first place. If he indeed is the Son of God, why does he not overturn this godless society? It just does not make sense unless he is not the person he pretends to be. I refuse to think that his teachings proved exaggerated at best and lie at worst over the past years.

     On this night, I celebrate Pesach with my family. I hope to leave this feeling of dread by turning to what I know, ritual in the story of deliverance for our people. Even in my observance, I cannot help but notice the irony in this entire situation. We tell the story of our redemption when we hope that Jesus is the appointed one to relieve us from bondage at this moment. Still, there is not a word, only silence.

     I search for peace in the observance of my custom, but the storm continues to rage. Doubt stands at the forefront of all my thoughts. I feel as if I am slowly dying, unable to gasp for my next breath. I chant, “O come, O come Emmanuel and ransomed captive Israel.” Still, nothing happens. As I sink deeper into despair, I realize God does not answer me. My heart breaks, and I descend into the deepest parts of my soul.