CAN YOU BLOCK GOD?

When Faith Stops Bargaining

I wrote this on the eighteenth of February and it’s May now. I’m not at the place I was back then, there’s alot of life that’s happened since then, but I’m also nowhere near the finish line. I’m somewhere in between, still asking the same question I did on that day, just a little further down the road, I guess.

Some days, I question if God has my back. Some days, I don’t. The wavering hasn’t stopped, I don’t think it ever does and I can’t remember when it started either. What I do know is that today I’m not lying in my bed, staring at my ceiling struggling to get out of bed, and I can’t tell you exactly why that is because it’s never just one thing. It’s always all of it.

So I’m posting this now because that question is still true.

So to her, I know life feels like it’s too much right now. But I also know you won’t feel like this forever. Be angry. Be mad. Tell the world to fuck off. Feed the cats and go back to bed.

It’s okay.

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I was at a point in my life where everything felt like it was falling apart. I had just walked away from a relationship that I really didn’t want to end. My first real yes to myself in six years. The only time since my marriage ended that I'd admitted out loud that I wanted this. Gone. Two of my closest friends had lost their fathers and I felt their pain in the same way as if it was my own dad that had passed. My money situation was looking a little tragic due to very poor investment choices I had made. And my health was the worst it had been in a very long time.

And that morning I just couldn’t get out of bed. Actually I didn’t want to get out of bed. I was tired in a way that I couldn't explain away. And as I was laying there staring at my ceiling thinking about the state of my life, I couldn’t even cry, as I kept thinking does God have my back. Seems like a random question, but it really wasn’t. If you knew me, you'd know I was always the one encouraging others. God’s got your back, don’t worry. I said it like I knew something nobody else did. Like I was special enough to have that kind of access. My faith alone gave me access to information no one else had. I could be annoying as hell with my “positivity” talk but when everything collapsed all at once, my faith wasn’t enough for me.

It didn’t hold.

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So there I was literally fighting with myself, trying to think my way out of this feeling. I have a good life. My kids are happy. My job’s okay. I have really amazing friends and family.

So is my life really that bad?

But the only thing that kept on running through my mind was, if it’s not that bad, why the fuck is my life unraveling the way it is.

And this one sided little conversation went like this ...

Me asking God, where’s my relief buddy.
My peace.
My happy ending.

And the answer I got back .... was nothing.

Even worse was this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach saying … What if it never comes.

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How do you continue to believe when you can’t find evidence that your faith has carried you. What if all I’m left with is just life. Not terrible, not amazing, but just everyday ordinary life. And I’ve been waiting for this big payoff to happen.

It was heavy. Not the thoughts itself but the reality that maybe this is the truth. And that the lifelong story I told myself, that eventually everything will work out, might not happen the way I had envisioned.

And we all have dreams and aspirations about our ideal life but I’m talking deeper. I’m talking God I’ve suffered for years, where’s my reward kind of dreams.

It’s all I held onto.

And now I felt empty. Abandoned by a God I’d never questioned before.

Can you have your heart broken by God?

Because that how I felt and that pain hit me different. It's hard when there’s nobody to fight. When it’s just you and your thoughts and your pain. And I was raised to believe that God rewards the faithful. Your suffering won’t be in vain. But in that moment I didn’t believe any of it, not anymore.

So what do you do with that. How do you continue to live when the foundation you built your life on feels shaky.

It’s always been me and God. Year after year, struggle after struggle. He was the anchor. And now I was questioning if He was ever really there. Because faith was never just a word for me. It was my baseline. The way I navigated the world. How I decided what holds meaning and what I can let go.

For the first time in my life I didn’t understand faith anymore. And more than that, I didn’t trust God.

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And there are things we quietly believe and never say out loud. Like the relief is promised. It’s literally in every teaching no matter your religious path. As long as I played my part, God would play His. That’s the deal right.

If you heal, you get peace.
If you endure, eventually you get rewarded.
Love well and you will be loved back.

Those things man. Those things don’t play out like that in real life. The argument becomes flawed when there’s zero evidence. No reward. Shitty love situations. Zero fucking peace.

So does that mean God failed me?

Or did I fail Him.

I used to think maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the one who hasn’t delivered. Maybe God looked at my life and said no, she hasn’t earned it yet. And that kind of thinking really messes with your head. You start questioning if you’re worthy enough to earn Gods favour and that can lead you to make some stupid choices. Like does faithful mean staying in a toxic friendship because God really wants me to help this person, or does it mean giving when you don’t have because God rewards those who are generous. It’s a never ending loop rooted in shame and fear.

Because that’s how it feels lying in this bed staring at the ceiling with my cats trying to get my attention so I can feed them. And they sit patiently, waiting for me to move. I find myself a little envious that they have such simple lives.

Or does it mean God never actually agreed to the terms of my contract in the first place. That the rewards I expected were mine, not His.

And what does that mean for me now, for my faith, my belief.

Looking back, I always seemed to have conditions attached to my faith and that’s not a small realisation.

I’ll trust you because I know you’ll fix this. But could I also say I’ll trust you God even if you never fix this.

And honestly, I’m not sure.

Because when you start questioning your own expectations, you also have to take stock of your part you played, take personal accountability for the things that were in your control that you quietly just expected God to handle. And who wants to look in that fucking mirror when life's already kicking you in the face.

So back to staring at the ceiling. Angry, disappointed and a little lost. Unsure of where to go, who to shout at and which part I’m even mad about to begin with. The one thing I do know, I can’t pretend that belief alone can hold my life together anymore.

Because that’s not faith either. I think that’s delusion with a little bit of spiritual naivety sprinkled over the top.

So I haven’t gone no contact. I have not blocked God. I’m still talking, shouting and sometimes even screaming at Him.

But today I’m sad and disillusioned and I don't feel steady.

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This relationship has carried me through many storms. That’s real. I lived that part. And this isn’t my first dance, we’ve been here before. I’ve shouted and cursed and cried when I felt like I’d had enough. But the act of living with faith isn’t the same as the act of believing you are faithful. One requires only acceptance, sometimes blindly. The other requires acceptance and action. Yours.

And I don’t know what that means for me right now. Maybe God’s silence right now doesn’t mean no. Maybe it means it’s time for me to take action. Maybe prayer right now isn’t meant to bring anything back. Maybe it’s meant just to change me.

Do I get say there’s no evidence just because it didn’t show up in the way that I wanted or expected it to.

I think my version of faith that required payment might be dying. And today I don’t know how to deal with that.

And the version of faith that remains. I’m not sure how that will work either because now it becomes a choice. My choice. And that’s scary. Because when you choose faith it doesn’t promise you anything.

It just stands.

I don’t have answers today, just questions. I’m lying in bed, too tired to move and the weight isn’t lifting. And I don’t want to decide if I trust God no matter what happens.

Today I’m allowed to be heartbroken and confused and to say I don’t understand.

Today I can say I’m tired of believing without seeing.

And maybe that’s all faith is for me right now.

Love,
Mitch xx

If this is you, and maybe like me you’re reading this when the house is dark and its just you with your thoughts, you’re not alone and you don’t have to have it all figured out today 🤍