Why Have You Forsaken Me?

Devotion for Life Line Sampson

A few weeks ago, I called a woman I knew was drowning in hardship. Life kept hitting her, and instead of letting up, the blows only seemed to land harder. The moment she answered, her first words hit me like a gut punch:

"God hates me."

I let the words hang in the air for a moment before asking, "Why do you think that?"

And then she unloaded. Everything she had bottled up came pouring out—the pain, the heartbreak, the weight of loss. I already knew what she was going through, but I didn’t stop her. She needed to say it, to let it all out. And in that moment, she fully believed what she was saying. Given what she had been through, I could understand why.

It felt like life was stacked against her, like the universe had singled her out for suffering. No relief, no mercy, no sign of hope. When she finally finished, I asked again, "Why does God hate you?"

That’s when the anger flared. Exactly what I wanted. She needed someone tangible, someone she could see, someone to direct all that frustration toward. And I was willing to take it.

"You told me God hears our prayers! Scripture says whatever we ask will be given! I got nothing!"

"How do you know?" I asked.

Silence.

Now what? How do I help her see that God isn’t absent, that He hasn’t abandoned her?

It’s in these moments we have to show people the Jesus they need. There’s one Jesus, but different aspects of Him meet us in different seasons. Which Jesus should I show her?

The Jesus who told the woman at the well that she was loved? The Jesus who was tested in the wilderness? The young Jesus preaching in the temple?

No. She needed to see the Jesus on the cross.

I told her about the battered, bloodied Christ, crying out in agony, "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?" She needed to know that Jesus understands. That God knows what it feels like to lose someone He loves, to watch suffering unfold and let it happen—not because He enjoys it, but because He sees the greater purpose.

We don’t get to run from pain. We can’t sleep it away. It stays. It cuts. It makes us feel nailed to our own cross, helpless under its weight. And yet, faith that costs nothing is worth nothing. A life with Christ isn’t easy—it’s hard because it must cost us something.

But we don’t face it alone.

"Look for God," I told her. "He’s there. He knows your pain. He hasn’t left you. Give Him time, and He’ll show you something."

Two days later, my phone rang. It was her. I braced myself for more anger.

But when she spoke, her voice was different—calm, steady.

"Chris, I’m sorry. You were right. I saw God. And I know He’s with me."

She went on to tell me what had changed. Through her loss, something unexpected happened—strained relationships healed, a broken family came together, love rekindled where bitterness had lived. She had lost one person, but she had gained a restored bond with her son, a new beginning she never saw coming.

Only God could have done that.

No matter where you are, no matter how dark it feels, God is there. In the joy and in the sorrow, He is working. But you have to look for Him. He hasn’t forsaken you. He is creating something new in you every single day. And if you open your eyes, if you seek Him in the moment you’re in, you’ll find Him.

Then, take that Jesus—the one who meets you where you are—and show Him to others. Because in their darkest moments, they need to see Him too.