Somehow, I found myself in a place where I desperately wanted to be alone- not because of depression but because of boredom. Everything that I would once turn to for comfort was no longer within my grasp, and I felt the weight of my anxious thoughts consuming me with every breath that I took. No matter how hard I tried, I simply could not shake the feeling that I was experiencing a major crisis.

A crisis of faith.

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According to Hebrews 11:1, “faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen,” yet for most of my 38.5 years of living, faith seemed like an elusive peace that could never find me. Sunday after Sunday, I went to church in my youth, earnestly searching for faith, yet what I often found were theatrics and gimmicks that would entertain me for a moment and then be dismissed from my mind soon after. The entire church seemed to be in an uproar, shouting, dancing, and crying every week, but no matter how hard I tried, I felt unaffected and unbothered by what I saw before me. Maybe I was broken and defective, unable to worship God like the crowds before me. All I knew was that as they cried out to Jesus, vocally professing their faith and emotions, I sat in service motionless and thought about the rest of my agenda for the day or some other nonessential tidbit that would fleetingly enter and exit my mind.

This is a rare moment where I will not blame ADHD for my behavior. My blank and often distant body language in church had nothing to do with my diagnosis (at least, I don’t think it did). I was yearning for something that I did not believe the church had to offer for me; I needed more than those hollow four walls could give. That internal emptiness was my companion for so long that I hadn’t even noticed its presence. It had become a friend that I was unknowingly allowing to join me at every event and special moment in my life. I felt limp, numb even, to the moments of life that were passing me by. For so long, I tried to fill that void in my life with so many [now] trivial things- sex, alcohol, food, shopping, tattoos, trips, etc. Each one soothed me but for a moment, before crushing my bubble and sending me spiraling back down to earth. My youth transitioned into young adulthood, and I still couldn’t figure out how to find and have faith.

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As I’ve often mentioned, February 26, 2017 was the day that changed my life forever. I was driving home from Virginia Beach listening to “Yes” by Shekinah Glory when I was rear-ended by a car that had been rear-ended by a service truck. Because I saw in my rearview mirror what was happening, my body tensed up out of fear, which would only exacerbate the pain that stayed with me for months to come. For the first time in my life, I had felt the “faith” that everyone had been talking about for so long. Before the car hit me, I had truly felt living breath within me in a new way. The words of the song filled both my car and my heart, and I felt free.

Free from the traffic of the day.
Free from the disappointments in my life.
Free from the depression that so often found me.

I had “found” faith and I didn’t want to live without it ever again.

Yet here I sit on my half-birthday (Lord willing, I will turn 39 in exactly six months), wondering what happened to the faith that found me that day because over the past five years, I have felt increasingly lost.

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One thing that I can confidently say about myself is that I can recognize when I am not ok. I may not immediately respond to what I recognize, but I do see it. When the world began to shut down five years ago due to Covid, a part of my inner spark started to diminish, but I did not call attention to it. My commitment to many once-enjoyable facets of my life started to wane, and I found myself not wanting to fully engage with people or activities. I don’t think it was depression, but I was realizing that the things that I had once deemed important were now optional in my life. I continued to add to my social and emotional plate, thinking that by adding activity after activity, I would find what I had once lost; however, I later realized that what I was doing was unhealthy in the long run.

Today, I am finding faith on my terms. Faith truly is “the assurance of things hoped for and the conviction of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1, NASB),” yet it is also the breath in my lungs and the wind in my sail. Beloved, here’s the good news. When we experience a crisis, our mind and body go into fight/flight/freeze mode, and we are faced with a choice that will forever change our lives. One of the greatest blessings of experiencing a crisis of faith is that I am now afforded the opportunity of rediscovering God’s beauty and grace with fresh, more experienced eyes. I get to “taste and see” that the Lord truly is good.

I’m choosing to F.I.G.H.T. (Faithing It; God Handle This/That)

Be blessed.