Instinct

"God is good" she said.

Instantly, synapses in my mind lept into place, dictating the proper response, grilled into us both with unrelenting repetition by a mutual friend. He has a saying "God is good all the time. And all the time, God is good." I knew the answer, and yet I hesitated.

She paused, almost as though uncertain how to respond, as though a call-and-response method of authenticating a stranger in the night had not been passed.

"All the time" she said, pausing only slightly before continuing "And all the time..."

Still, I knew the answer. But I hesitated. Every nerve in me seemed to scream out - "Just answer the phrase, you dolt! You look like a fool sitting here nodding your head. Finish the phrase and continue the conversation into safer territory!" Every nerve... except my mouth. It cruelly refused to obey my commands.

Was it because I doubted the answer? It is something I had been wrestling with. God is good. And yet I am hurt, lonely, confused, and very uncertain about my future. I do not look at my own life and find the proof in my statement. I look to the best evidence I know - the cross. And in that, I find certainty.

Was it because I was too dumbstruck to speak? Graced with the rare opportunity to have a conversation with a woman over a subject beyond how best to plug in her microphone, had I used up all the wit I had slowly stored up; like one painstakingly saving drops of dew for but a single glass of water now consumed in a single, savage gulp?

Or was it because several years spent in a cycle of cynicism rendered me unable to respond in such a simple way. Had my doubts gnawed away my core of simple faith that radiated from this woman until in this instant I could see the shadow cast by my doubt in that brilliant light?

Whatever the reason, the conversation ended akwardly. She left, repeating the phrase to herself, as if for reassurance. I resumed work on the computer.