On this Lenten road I stop and kneel a while,
as though the Lord might hear me where I am.
There isn’t much to offer but myself—
no borrowed faith to wrap around my doubts,
no heat of zeal, just what I find inside.

It isn’t easy work to look that way.
Plain sight has seldom brought a man much ease.

The questions come the same as they have long:
Why trouble seems to find the ones most good.

If most are good—as people like to say—
has God stepped off and left the darker fields
to carry on without His watchful care?

And what of Job? Was he a tale once told
to quiet fears beside an older fire?
Or does he sit somewhere in modern dust
still asking why the losses fall his way?

I think of Jacob meeting Esau once—
after the years of gain had weighed him down—
and laying something heavy from his heart
before he crossed again into his kin.

Perhaps our faith begins where something ends:
a God gone silent, or too many gods
crowding the narrow rooms where people pray.

And yet the earth goes on in quieter trust.
The soil keeps working under what we ask.
Something below the surface turns and waits,
the way the seasons labor out of sight.

So faith comes back the way the spring comes back—
not proved by talk or forced by argument,
but rising slowly from the patient ground.

– TaeHun Yoon, 3/7/2026