A jarringly personal and vulnerable blog post about my recent faith crisis.
The evening of August 31 2021 I crashed. I was driving 100 miles a minute and in seconds before I could pump the breaks the vehicle that was my spiritual life...went spinning. Dizzy, all I could see was pitch black followed by a flash of all the events leading up to this climax. The faces, the words, the suspicious trends, the texts, the calls, the inconsistencies, the tears, the sleepless nights, were all in full view as the excruciating heartbreak brought me to my knees...not to pray, but to die. I curled up pitying my end as I remained in a trance—neither dead or alive. I went to work the next morning a zombie, holding back tears with every mention of death, of love, of God. That night, I laid awake analyzing my faith.
Did God lie to me about Christ-centered romantic connection? Did His Word deceive me into believing that His peace would heal my sorrow if I were to ever lose a beloved student to death? Surely His Holy Spirit would teach me how to forgive if I were ever betrayed by a best friend...right?
I questioned everything I thought to be absolute truth as I drowned in...
insurmountable grief
unbearable anxiety
profound regret
extreme humiliation
relentless bitterness
and fuming rage...
I asked myself, how can a born-again Spirit-filled Believer be so overcome by the flesh? I refused to pray. The lyrics to gospel songs disturbed me. I could no longer believe that God loved me. Doubts about his goodness seared into my mind. And this frightened me... My thoughts made me quiver as I suspended in limbo trying to figure out why my faith in Christ had failed me in this emotional crisis. God where are you? I screamed in my crucible of a pit unable to see the light and no amount of love from my Church seemed to help at the time. I couldn't grasp their embrace; each word of encouragement slipped my grip. I tried to read my Bible to test out "faith comes by hearing the Word of God"(Romans 10:17). But all my efforts were futile. I was trying to dig my way out to no avail. A dark hum of doom was the soundtrack of my every day: I woke and slept to its foreboding melody. I was in a constant state of terror worried that perhaps God had left me or worse, I was never chosen at all...
On the 4th night of my insomnia I received a text early in the morning articulating a dream that became a timely seed of hope. In the dream, my friend and I were in a library trying to uncover Biblical mysteries. When we were complete, we left the library only to be met by a mountainous rock. She said I maneuvered the rock with ease. I instantly clutched my chest, and drained out my anxiety in flooding tears. Could I be in the library now? Is God teaching me something new about suffering, about hope, about trials of all kinds, about forgiveness, about real friendship, about godly love (1st Corinthians 13)—about God himself? Was the rock symbolic of Jesus the rock? Is He my cornerstone rather than a stumbling block? My healing was on its way but still incomplete.
While I struggled to believe that I was indeed chosen by God, I knew that those who seek Him with all their hearts, souls and minds surely find Him and ya girl was SEEKING! I called my friend after my little epiphany to thank her for sharing the dream with me and she followed up with advice that led to my turning point. She told me to keep listening to gospel music even if the lyrics didn't seem to apply. One day, one of them will hit. And she was right.
I sought after God in the depths of the night. I searched for Him in the void of the deep. Before anyone was awake, I was wrestling and restless. Googling, how do I know I’m chosen by God? What does it feel like to leave the faith? I asked the questions that make most religious folk tremble and nominal Christians shiver. How dare I test my faith? But Paul knew that we would all approach this crossroad sooner or later (2 Corinthians 13:5-6). Better now than at the judgement seat. In the wee hours of the morning, I stumbled upon an article that convicted me to my core. It shown a light down into my pit and my little seed of hope began to bud. What did I have faith in in the first place? The anonymous writer wrote:"When we live life with a lot of “should’s,” we are setting ourselves up for disappointment."😲 In essence, I needed to sacrifice my entire life from start to finish—for REAL for real. And I needed to expect trials to produce perseverance, perseverance character, and character hope.
My cousin encouraged me with Romans 5:3-5 the Wednesday before, but it didn't really hit until this particular night. I wanted hope right away. But so much precedes that! There is the trusting God while you are hurting leading to a perseverance that can weather any storm. And a faith that stands the test of time, yielding fruit bearing character from which hope is derived. I had misunderstood this process all this while. As soon as the heavy rain of tragedy drenched me, I threw a tantrum because I wanted an instant resolution—the promised peace that surpasses understanding ASAP. But God was uninterested in my comfort no matter how hard I prayed, or how much I begged and pleaded; God wanted me crucified. It took smashing my ego with deception & rejection, unearthing all my entrenched fears about men & marriage and crushing my heart with the death of my student to get me to the cross of total surrender. And when I took my last breath to die to self, I finally found hope there. Not in this present world, but in the world to come. I found Christ to be too good to be true. Too kind to be mine. Too loving to waste my suffering. Too faithful to fail me now.
The gospel songs that once faded into the background of my deterioration, bubbled up to consciousness when "Real Thing" by Maverick City came on. I found myself mindlessly repeating—"I'm done pretending, I want the real thing." God used that song to assure me that while He may have felt far away, He was holding on to me all along. And as my soul was being ministered to, all I could think of was this line from my therapist: "God is constant and we are not." God did not leave me; but I let my trials cause me to drift away and before I knew it, I was far from home. But it was God who met me on the road as I was making my way back. It was Jesus who grabbed me from the thicket leaving the 99 behind. I couldn’t come unless He called me. I couldn’t have stayed afloat unless He stretched down into the deep to pull me from my sea of my misery. Isn't it good to know that our shepherd is not a hired hand, but is loyal to the very end—He stays to protect His sheep from the wolves of our day. Isn't it good news that He who began a good work will complete it? That He will present those who believe blameless before the Father? Therefore, I will boast in my weakness, my brokeness, my shame and my pain so that Christ's immeasurable strength may be made perfect in me. This is the truth that sustained me and perpetually sets me free.
“The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.” Zephaniah 3:17
I spoke to a very wise acquaintance of mine on Labor day right after my grand revelation and at the close of our conversation, He advised me to write my experience down. So while I've shared my story with all of you, I really wrote it for myself. If I ever find myself here again, I will revisit this recounting to remind myself of the temporary nature of my suffering—that this too shall pass. I'll remind myself to surrender immediately, carry my cross, and lie down on the altar so that the purging of my flesh and the building of my character may produce hope. I will remind myself that weeping may endure for a night—however long that night might be—but joy comes in the morning. I will remember that suffering is a part of this sanctification process that ultimately produces perfection in the end. I will remember that God will never leave me nor forsake me because He is constant even when I am not.
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"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God." 2 Corinthians 1:3-4
Special thanks and heartfelt gratitude to all of my close friends and family who visited, texted daily, called, and prayed for me with urgency and compassion. I know that your collective faith lifted me out of darkness into impeccable light. You are the Church God has called Believers to be and I pray that He will also use me to support you all in the same way in your season of suffering. Amen.
LORENE!!!! 😭❤️ Kofi!!!!😭🙏🏿Stephanie!!😭❤️KP🙏🏿 Nikki G❤️ Nikki T ❤️ Nana❤️ Ben 🙏🏿LeNette❤️ALL of Friday Fellowship!!!!!❤️❤️❤️Sam Carter ❤️ Jamise ❤️ Clay&Erin 🙏🏿 Gloria ❤️ Emma ❤️ Michaela❤️ ALL my PIWC Gyals ❤️Ogechi ❤️ Emeka 🙏🏿 Tobi ❤️ Osa ❤️ Benji🙏🏿 Aaricka ❤️Satiah ❤️ and the list goes on!!! I’m so sorry if I missed anyone, but know that the love is deep paa! May God bless you all!