Feeling unsettled today. I’m trying to make sense of a lot of things. A conversation with a friend about prayer and God seems to have stirred something deep in me, something I can’t fully name. She said that prayer broke something off me last night, that scripture and God’s promises have power if we claim them. She also said that sometimes we cause our own struggles by not trusting those promises. I’m thankful for the love in her words, but they’ve left me wrestling with some questions.
I’ve often been told that my faith isn’t strong enough, that if I just believed more, I’d see healing or change. That narrative weighs heavily, especially when prayer feels hollow. It can feel like a way for people—including myself—to avoid real action. If someone’s struggling, isn’t it more meaningful to do something to help them rather than saying, “I’ll pray for you”? And how do we even discern what’s God’s action versus our own? My friend says she feels things in her spirit, but isn’t that just another word for opinion?
The God I’ve known and trusted has shaped my life, but the version of God I hear about in church—the one who demands worship or threatens hell—feels hard to reconcile. Love, at least as I understand it, shouldn’t be conditional. Why would a loving God need belief to extend love? Why would God punish someone for walking a different path? I know the “free will” argument, but I still can’t make it sit comfortably.
What resonates with me is the beauty and grounding of liturgy. Chant, structure, moments of stillness—these connect me to something bigger. I’ve also been drawn to traditions that embrace the inner work of faith—the slow, unspoken transformations that happen not through dramatic moments but through small, persistent acts of love and reflection. Faith that allows space for honesty and questions feels truer to me than faith that demands answers.
I’ve come to realise that some struggles aren’t meant to be fixed overnight, and no amount of pressure or prayer will force them to disappear. Instead, maybe the work of faith is to make space for all of it—the questions, the doubts, the pain—and allow something to shift in its own time.
I don’t have all the answers, but maybe faith isn’t about that. It’s about showing up, even in uncertainty. The God I’ve experienced is still there, even if the constructs around him feel shaky. Perhaps faith is less about certainty and more about seeking truth and meaning in the complexity of it all.