The word “trial” doesn’t even do it justice. Your faith isn’t just “tested,” it is weakened to the point of doubt and despair. No light at the end of the tunnel. No releif from the emotional suffication; the soul does not stop it’s heaving; it comes in waves; it comes with crushing power; it comes relentlessly; ripping up your insides like internal poison ivy; like a soul-quake; a heart attack; a mack truck of pain rolling over the finest parts of your soul, steeling your joy, sucking your hope up like a death vacuum, cracking your most inner shell like it was made out of plastic, shattering your peace like a brick shatters a car windom, leaving bullet holes in your gut like a roothless drive-by of angry gangbanger retaliatation, leaving you in a puddle of blood, on the torture rack, chopped to peaces, melted in the microwave of affliction.

When it comes, you can have a million friends who run to your rescue, and yet none of them will be able to comfort. They bring you water you cannot drink, they bring you medicine you cannot take, they bring you gifts you cannot accept, they bring you food you cannot eat, they bring you advice you cannot take, soap that does not make clean, lights that do not shine, songs that cannot be sung, glasses that fail to focus the eyes, clothes that do not take away the nakedness, coats that do not warm, lotion that does not stop the flesh from cracking, scissors that cannot cut off the pain, cars that do not start the engine of faith, and words without meaning. They surround you like media surrounds a press conference, yet you are all alone in a black hole of darkness. They pray over you, yet you feel far from God. They look upon you with compassion, yet you feel unloved. No one hears you crying; no one understands the pain. Like a man who watches the sun set, they see you falling and can do nothing. They throw you life lines you cannot grab, send you supplies you cannot use. They are helpless; you are helpless; all you can do is grit the teeth of your soul and wait.