You’re probably familiar with Edvard Munch’s painting The Scream, but do you know its inspiration? From the venerable Wikipedia, a quote from Munch’s own diary, written January 22, 1892:

I was walking along a path with two friends — the sun was setting — suddenly the sky turned blood red — I paused, feeling exhausted, and leaned on the fence — there was blood and tongues of fire above the blue-black fjord and the city — my friends walked on, and I stood there trembling with anxiety — and I sensed an infinite scream passing through nature.

…an infinite scream passing through nature. That’s terrifying.

It was a year ago today that I wept uncontrollably for everything that was breaking around me. We call it a broken heart for a reason, and I felt as if that muscle inside my chest had been severed, with its separate halves wrenching apart, causing my entire body to split down the middle were it not for the glue of  all-encompassing pain. That may sound entirely too melodramatic, but the words I used to describe that day, on the day that it happened, included convulsive, aching, and despair. It was like nothing I knew a human could experience. In retrospect, it was the the darkest valley of this journey.

Munch’s “infinite scream” had passed through me. I fear it must pass through us all, eventually. For me, it was the sudden and brutal realization that I was not the sole creator of my own destiny and that I cannot control the actions or wills of other people. It was hopelessness borne of desperation, awash in bitter tears. It was flailing hands to an uncaring universe, selfish cries of “Why me?!” to a silent God.

But what if that’s only part of the story? What if the “infinite scream” really originated, in part, from the only infinite Being? What if the scream, that unearthly and primal sound that sputtered from my soul exactly a year ago, was God’s rage at the injustice and the pain and the chaos and the hurt and the confusion and the sorrow of the entire ordeal, for all parties involved? What if that’s His infinite scream, shouted at the dawn of time, coursing through our lives at times of utmost despair, echoing throughout creation, a wrenching pain leaving a lasting scar, like a sword to a side of flesh.

My God, my God…

What if His seeming silence… is because He’s been screaming with you?