Rediscovering Faith through wounds and signs

The past five years have been marked by struggle and doubt in the faith I once embraced. It’s been a time when the wounds inflicted by those I trusted deeply felt insurmountable. I grappled with why God would allow such betrayal to continue to permeate my life. In those moments, it felt like what I once believed, embraced, and cherished were just distant memories.

When you're in pain—when your spirit feels paralyzed—it can be hard to open the Bible for comfort. Yet, in the midst of my struggle, I began to notice signs that reminded me of God's presence. Some might argue that these signs are just coincidences, but I believe they were carefully orchestrated messages tailored to my heart.

God knows my language and speaks to me in ways that pierce through my doubts and remind me that I am seen and valued. Whether it's a moment of unexpected beauty in nature, a random text from a friend that I know without a doubt the message they sent was placed on their heart for me from God, or the white feathers that have appeared since the day Jackson died, these signs have reassured me that I am not alone. They echo a profound truth: what concerns me concerns my Creator.

While I still wrestle with my faith (more so about the American Christian Evangelical church and how I don’t want to be a part of it anymore), these moments of clarity serve as a lifeline, rekindling my connection to a love that endures. I’ve come to understand that faith isn’t always about unwavering certainty; sometimes, it’s about recognizing the gentle whispers of care that guide us back to hope.

In this ongoing journey, I find solace in knowing I am seen and held, even when I feel lost.