Begin to See

This portion of the book contains so many different emotions and concepts that I am not sure where to begin.  Why is it so difficult to write about this?  It's alright once I "get something going", but the beginning is always the worst part. 
   "When I lay these questions before God I get no answer.  But a rather special sort of 'No answer.' It is not the locked door.  It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze.  As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question.  Like, 'Peace, child; you don't understand.'
   Can a mortal ask questions which God finds unanswerable?  Quite easily, I should think.  All nonsense questions are unanswerable.  How many hours are there in a mile?  Is yellow square or round?  Probably half the questions we ask -- half our great and theological and metaphysical problems -- are like that."
  A special sort of No Answer.  I have felt this too, and find it to be the greatest consolation.  God understands, and I don't -- not only that, but I don't need to.  He is on an infinitely greater plane, able to comprehend and see things far beyond my reasoning or imagination.  No question is perhaps more irritating to me than, "Why do bad things happen to good people?", as if there were anything but bad people.  I suppose it's not actually the question which is the problem, but our feeble and ignorant attempts to answer it fully.  Give up.  I don't mean this in a pessimistic way.  There is something wonderful about giving up in this area.  When we realize that we'll never understand, we are saying, "I trust You," and I think a great part of our faith relies on it. 
   "On the other hand, 'Knock and it shall be opened.'  But does knocking mean hammering and kicking the door like a maniac?  After all, you must have a capacity to receive, or even omnipotence can't give.  Perhaps your own passion temporarily destroys the capacity."
  I really loved this passage.  I can remember several times when I've felt this way, too.  Another part of the first verse he referred to is, "Seek, and you will find."  But when we are in the kind of state that Lewis was describing, we are not seeking at all.  We are simply looking into ourselves, seeing what we think is emptiness, and crying out in unbelief, "God isn't here!"  It reminds me of a parent patiently holding their child while they thrash about in a tantrum, or that strange sensation you get just after crying for a very long time.  There is a sense of exhaustion, but also a faint peace.  I think that is a better place to recieve God's love.    

As a comment to this video, someone ironically said, "Pity people like Kempff have to die.  It's only when they have gone that you realize how much you miss them and just how good they were."  Apparently her name was Catherine.