Faith does not always fall into disobedience; sometimes it just gets boring – and in this clip, Rebecca Simon write in that tired place. In Finding God Every Daycontinues that journey, exploring growing faith, spiritual doubt, and the courage it takes to trust God again after heartbreak.
I remember how things used to feel between us.
There was a time when trusting you was automatic, when prayer felt easy, when faith felt strong, when your presence was not something I asked for, but rather, something I knew was there. I used to feel so sure about you. I used to be so convinced of your goodness, that if I prayed hard enough, or believed deeply enough, you would meet me where I needed you, you would appear.
But life happens, God. It hurts. Trauma happened. And somewhere in the midst of all that pain, my faith began to darken, too.
It’s not that I stopped believing in you God. It’s just that I can’t believe in the same way anymore. Sometimes when I come to you now, there is a fear in my chest that was not there before. The fear that you might be silent, that you might not be seen, to disappoint me with the ways life already has you.
I don’t want to stand this distance between us, God. I don’t want to hold this warning that has entered my prayers, this doubt that destroys my trust. But the trauma taught me things I wish I never had to learn. It taught me how fragile security can be, how prayers can sometimes be answered in ways that break your heart, how even good people sometimes suffer from irrational experiences. Trauma made me different. The trauma changed my heart.
And part of me grieves for that old version of me, God. I grieve for the version of me that I trusted without second-guessing, the version of me that didn’t carry all these fears in the depths of my faith. I wonder if you remember that version too. I wonder if you are tired of my slow journey home to you.
There’s a part of me that hopes you’re not actually asking me to go back, God. Maybe you’re still there, still strong, still patient, and still willing to meet me in the mess I didn’t choose. Maybe you didn’t need me to have complete faith for you to still call me yours. Maybe you didn’t mean for me to go through this alone.
So please, God, strengthen me in this season. In this space in between where my heart wants to trust you completely again, but my wounds still remember. Help me believe that you are not afraid of my questions. That you are not disappointed in my struggle. That you are still with me, here, and now.
Teach me that faith isn’t about pretending I’m untouchable — it’s about reaching out to you even if I’m afraid. It’s about showing up with a broken heart and still daring to trust, to pray, to hope. It’s about letting you love me as I am, no matter how much I’ve changed, even though my world has been dark at times.
I’m still here, God. I’m still reaching. I still have hope. I’m still trying. Please help me believe that that is enough for you.
