Life has never promised to be easy, but there are seasons where it feels particularly heavy, almost unbearable.
I remember a period where everything in my life felt like it was falling apart, no matter how hard I tried to hold it all together. I was doing everything I believed was right, working hard, staying kind, praying, holding on to hope, yet, nothing was working. Instead of progress, I kept hitting walls.
It felt like life was fighting me. I gave my best in everything, but it never felt enough. I would lie in bed at night, tears silently soaking my pillow, wondering what exactly I was doing wrong. And during that time, I prayed deeply and sincerely, I cried out to God, asking for direction, for peace, for breakthrough. But with every prayer came silence, and with every silence came more doubt.
There was a moment I’ll never forget, the moment I started questioning if my prayers even meant anything at all. I asked myself, “Why pray if the answer is always going to be no?”
I began to feel like my voice wasn’t being heard in heaven. I questioned God, asked why He seemed so far away, so quiet, so indifferent to my pain. I questioned myself too, was I not faithful enough? Was I being punished? Was I not worth His attention?
It was one of the darkest emotional valleys I’ve ever walked through.
But even in that darkness, something deeper held me together, not strength, not even faith at that point, but something more like surrender. After pouring out all my doubts, all my anger, all my fears, I realized that I had nothing left but God, even when I couldn’t feel Him. And somehow, in that place of emotional exhaustion, I stopped trying to fight everything and just stayed still.
I didn’t stop praying, even when it felt empty. I didn’t stop hoping, even when it made no sense. I didn’t give up, even when everything inside me wanted to. I just kept going, quietly slowly and tearfully. But I kept going.
Eventually, things began to shift in a way I never imagined with signs that God had been there all along. He was quiet, yes. But He wasn’t absent. And in hindsight, I realized He was building something in me that only struggle could produce, endurance, spiritual maturity, and a deeper kind of trust.
The situation that nearly made me give up became the one that built me the most.
From that season, I learned that faith isn’t always loud or confident, Sometimes, it’s whispering “Amen” with tears in your eyes and doubt in your heart, sometimes they are risk but still choosing to believe. I learned that it’s okay to question, to cry, to feel tired, but it’s not okay to stop. Because the very fact that you’re still standing, still trying, still hoping, that’s victory in itself.
Looking back now, I can’t say everything makes perfect sense. Some things still don’t. But I’ve come to accept that not every season will feel fair or clear. Sometimes, life will hit hard, prayers will feel unanswered, and strength will feel out of reach.
But even in all that, I didn’t quit. I stayed. I kept moving, even if it was slow. And maybe that’s enough. Not because everything turned out perfect, but because I didn’t let the weight of it all silence my hope completely. That, in itself, is something I hold on to.