The rain had stopped, but the sky still looked heavy.
Evelyn stood outside her apartment, waiting for her ride to church, wondering if she should just turn back inside.
She hadn’t felt like going for weeks. Worship songs no longer moved her, prayers felt empty, and even reading Scripture seemed pointless. She told herself she was just tired — but deep down, she felt disconnected.
Everyone at church talked about “feeling God’s presence,” but Evelyn hadn’t felt anything in months.
“Maybe my faith’s fading,” she whispered to herself, kicking at a small puddle.
That Sunday morning, the service was about joy and trust. People around her raised their hands, eyes closed, tears streaming — but she couldn’t. She stood still, hands folded, guilt crawling up her chest.
When the pastor asked everyone to pray, Evelyn bowed her head, but all she could think was, Why don’t I feel what they feel?
After the service, she slipped out quietly. On the steps outside, she ran into Grace, one of the older women from church who always carried a kind smile.
“You alright, dear?” Grace asked softly.
Evelyn forced a smile. “Just tired, that’s all.”
Grace looked at her knowingly. “Tired in heart or tired in body?”
Evelyn hesitated. “…Both, I think.”
Grace nodded. “You know, sometimes faith doesn’t look like fire. Sometimes it’s just a tiny flame you protect with your hands when the wind blows too strong.”
She patted Evelyn’s shoulder and added, “God isn’t distant just because you can’t feel Him. Feelings are waves — faith is the anchor.”
That night, Evelyn sat on her bed, replaying Grace’s words.
She opened her Bible, though she didn’t feel like it. Her eyes landed on 2 Corinthians 5:7 —
“For we walk by faith, not by sight.”
She stared at the verse for a long time.
Maybe not feeling close to God didn’t mean she wasn’t close. Maybe the act of opening her Bible when she didn’t feel like it — that was faith.
Faith wasn’t the emotion of believing. It was the decision to trust anyway.
The next morning, Evelyn woke up earlier than usual. She made her coffee, sat by the window, and whispered a simple prayer:
“God, I don’t feel You today… but I’ll talk to You anyway.”
It wasn’t eloquent or emotional, but it was real.
Days passed like that — quiet prayers, small steps. Some mornings she felt peace; others she didn’t. But she kept showing up.
One evening, while walking home, she noticed the sunset — streaks of gold and pink across the sky. Something about it made her stop.
Not because she felt God’s presence — but because she realized He’d been there all along, steady and patient, even in her numbness.
That night, she wrote in her journal:
“Maybe faith isn’t about feeling strong. Maybe it’s about staying when everything in you wants to run. Maybe that’s the kind of faith God treasures most.”
Weeks later, Evelyn was back at church.
During worship, she didn’t cry or lift her hands high. But she sang quietly, eyes closed, whispering every word as a choice rather than a feeling.
And somehow, that felt more honest — more sacred.
Because now she knew that faith wasn’t about chasing feelings.
It was about trusting that God’s love remains even when the emotions fade.
As she left the church, she felt lighter — not because the feelings returned, but because the pressure to feel them was gone.
She smiled softly and whispered,
“Even when I don’t feel You, Lord, I’ll still believe You.”
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...🌿 Faith is not built on how we feel — it’s built on who God is....
...Feelings change; His faithfulness doesn’t....
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