LIFE QUESTIONS | KAIROS GLOBAL | NOVEMBER 2026

Author: Dr Joseph Sebastian
Life Question: Sometimes I feel God is a distant person who cannot be concerned for me. I do my best to attend daily Mass and be faithful to prayer. But why do I only feel a distance from God?
This is a deeply honest question. And perhaps more people carry it quietly than we realise.
You go to Mass. You pray. You try to be faithful. And yet somewhere within, there is this unsettling feeling: Where is God? Why don't I feel close to Him? Does He really care about me?
I must admit that I find this question difficult to answer from my own experience. Not because I haven’t gone through dry seasons, seasons when my faith has been tested to the core, through circumstances and experiences that have left me with many questions. Rather, in those moments, a quiet conviction of God’s presence has remained within me: that He knows what I am going through, and that He has not stopped caring for me. I share this not as an answer to your experience, but simply as one person's experience of walking with God.
I remember one such moment from my youth. After I came to know the Lord through Jesus Youth during my graduation, I was spiritually alive and active, doing what I would term the right Christian things. I was active in the movement, doing well in my studies, praying sincerely and trying to give my best. So, when my results came, I was devastated. The marks were not as I had expected.
To my young mind, I had done everything I thought I was supposed to do. I had studied hard, prayed hard and tried to live my faith. So why had God allowed this?
I was angry. I cried. On my way back from college, I went into the church where I had often sat quietly, prayed and felt the Lord's presence so clearly. But that day was different. I didn't go there to be peaceful. I went there to fight with my Lord.
I poured out everything – my disappointment, my anger, my sense of injustice. I remember almost telling Him, ‘Lord, You cheated me.’
I let it all out. Perhaps for an hour. But somewhere at the end of it, there was nothing more to say. And I remember saying, ‘Your will be done, O Lord.’
Looking back today, I can see that what felt so devastating at the time was eventually transformed into something good. Good for me, and, in ways I could not have imagined then, for people around me.
Perhaps that is something I have slowly learnt about walking with God. God being distant and feeling that God is distant are not necessarily the same thing. Our feelings are real and should not be dismissed. But feelings are not always reliable measures of God's presence.
There are seasons when prayer feels alive and intimate. There are other seasons when prayer feels dry, Mass feels routine, and God seems strangely silent. This does not necessarily mean that our faith has failed or that God has moved away.
Faith is not a transaction: I pray, I attend Mass, I try to be faithful; therefore I should feel You or I should get this. Faith is deeper than feelings. Sometimes faith is continuing to trust when we cannot feel what we believe.
And perhaps we can do something very simple: tell God about the distance. We don't have to make our prayer sound holy. We can say, ‘Lord, I am here. I am praying, but I don't feel You. I don't understand why You seem so far away. Help me.’
Even that can become prayer. We can question God, cry before Him and tell Him that we don't understand, and still remain there.
So perhaps the invitation is not to try harder to feel God, but simply to stay, to remain! Keep going to Mass. Keep praying. Keep bringing your honest heart to Him. Perhaps with less pressure to experience something every time. Sometimes love looks less like an emotional experience and more like faithful presence.
You may not always feel close to God. But that does not mean He is not close to you. Sometimes, when we cannot see the whole picture, faith is simply being able to say, ‘Your will be done, O Lord.’
Life Question: When I see a genuinely joyful person, I wonder at them. How can I be such a person when life is so dreary?
Last month, we explored a question that many of us may have quietly asked ourselves: ‘Why can't I rejoice in someone else's joy?’
This month, another question comes to us that sounds similar, but comes from a different place: wondering, ‘Why can't I experience that kind of joy myself?’
The first question was about what happens inside us when another person's success or happiness confronts our own sense of inadequacy. This one seems less about the other person and more about something within us: ‘Why does life feel so dreary for me when I see someone who seems genuinely joyful?’
Perhaps there are a few things worth gently exploring. First, don't dismiss the dreariness.
If life feels dreary, simply telling ourselves to ‘be positive’ may not help. Something may genuinely be weighing us down. Perhaps it is disappointment, loneliness, grief, a difficult relationship, work, financial worries, unfulfilled hopes, or simply the tiredness that comes from carrying too much for too long.
Before trying to manufacture joy, perhaps we need to acknowledge what has made life feel heavy. Sometimes naming what is weighing on us is itself a beginning.
Second, don't compare your interior with someone else's exterior.
The person we see as genuinely joyful may also be carrying struggles we know nothing about. Their joy does not necessarily mean their life is easier than ours. We see their smile; we may not see their tears. We see where they are today; we may not know the road they travelled to get there. Another person's joy does not have to become another reason to judge ourselves.
Third, perhaps we need to understand that joy is not the same as happiness. Happiness can often be closely connected to circumstances. Joy can be deeper. A person can grieve and still have hope. They can struggle and still be grateful. They can face uncertainty and yet carry an inner peace.
Christian joy does not pretend that life is always good or easy. It does not deny pain. It allows us to discover that even in difficult seasons, life can still hold moments of goodness, beauty and grace.
Fourth, don't try to manufacture joy. Notice and nurture it.
Perhaps we can begin small. Notice the friend whose call lifted your spirit. Enjoy a good conversation. Take delight in something beautiful. Laugh without feeling guilty. Help someone. Give thanks for something ordinary. Sit quietly with the Lord, even if the prayer is simple.
We often wait for something big to happen before we allow ourselves to feel joyful. But perhaps joy grows through receiving the small gifts that are already present in our lives.
And finally, as people of faith, we can ask: Where is my source of joy?
Jesus does not simply tell us to be joyful. He invites us to remain in Him: Abide in me, and I in you (John 15:4). And then He says, ‘that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full’ (John 15:11).
Christian joy is not something we need to manufacture through willpower. It grows from relationship: from remaining connected to the One who knows us, loves us and walks with us.
So perhaps the question is not, ‘How can I become a genuinely joyful person?’ Maybe it is: What has made my life dreary? What still gives me life? Where is God present in the midst of it? And can I allow myself to receive those moments rather than overlook them?
You don't have to become someone else to experience joy. Perhaps you only need to rediscover, little by little, the places where life is still quietly offering you reasons to give thanks.
And perhaps, in time, you may discover that joy was not as far away as you thought. It was there quietly waiting to be noticed, received and nurtured.

Dr Joseph Sebastian is a social development professional with nearly three decades of experience working across countries, cultures and communities. He connects grassroots realities with strategy and leadership, engages with Boards, and mentors young people. With his wife, he runs Living Life Trust, which serves older persons through day-care and assisted living spaces



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