I recently completed my 36th turn around the sun and I would like to share what has been the lesson of this age for me.
Before I begin though, I must preface this by saying that I believe in God. Belief aside, even my logic affirms that there is a God. Still, I acknowledge that the questions that follow; Who’s God? How good is God? etc. are valid, but the existence of a supreme being has never been in doubt for me. I’ve had personal encounters, a life filled with testimonies, and the reasoning that there is simply too much intricacy and beauty in creation for there not to be a divine being.
I not only believe in God, I am a Christian. Some might argue that’s because I was born into a Christian family, and perhaps they’re partly right; maybe if I were born elsewhere, I’d have clung to another faith. But it isn’t my family that made me Christian. They set the stage, but it was my own encounter with God that sealed it. I gave my life to Christ after a suicide attempt, so my journey is deeply personal (read conversion story here).
This year, however, has been one of the most trying for my faith. It has pushed me to wrestle with belief and logic in ways I hadn’t before.
In earlier years, I’ve had doubts, yes, but they were mostly tied to depression, suicidal ideation, or difficult circumstances, not solely intellectual questioning. The last time I questioned God this deeply was in 2021, when suicidal thoughts resurfaced after years of dormancy. It was painful to want to die while watching others who wanted to live lose their lives.
In 2022, things began to shift. Therapy and a strong Christian sisterhood helped me heal. That season led me to reaffirm my vows to Christ through baptism in August 2022. I wrote about here it at the time. My promise then was simple: Lord, I won’t attempt to take my life again. I’m surrendering the life to you who obviously wants to keep me here. Help me appreciate that, see value in being here and to live for You.
Since then, my faith hasn’t been perfect, but it’s been steady, until recently. Between late 2024 and now, I’ve been shaken by what I’ve witnessed in the global Christian community, particularly the rise of American Christian nationalism. Because American culture dominates global media, its distorted theology spreads everywhere. Seeing Christians justify injustice, inequality, and blind leadership in God’s name has been heartbreaking. I found myself asking: Am I worshipping a God of injustice?
In those moments, I’ve had to remind myself of who God truly is- based on my own encounters, not others’ interpretations. I’ve had to pray: God, please defend Your name, because what I see doesn’t make sense.
Thankfully, God is not threatened by my questions. He welcomes them. And I’ve been blessed with a church home (linked here) and a pastor who encourages honest questioning, and a small circle of Christian sisters who help me stay grounded. Without them, I might have lost my sanity amidst all the twisted rhetoric.
Still, I often find myself overwhelmed, looking at the state of the world and thinking, Lord, just blow the trumpet, send another flood and start over (or perhaps not at all), because this seems beyond saving.
Recently, I was reminded of a lesson from someone I dearly respect, though I’ve since been disappointed by their alignment with the kind of toxic Christian rhetoric I now resist. A few years ago, we did a peer-review exercise naming each other’s strengths and weaknesses. She told me I had a tendency to question authority too much. At the time, I thought she was using the exercise to criticize me (that was ego), but even then I couldn’t deny she was right.
She explained that I often refuse advice from people who haven’t been through what I’m facing, and that I believe I know what’s best for myself. Looking back, I see truth in that. I do question authority. I need people to prove they’re qualified to lead or advise me. That trait has followed me since childhood, my mother used to say I was too strong-willed, too stubborn, that we couldn’t both lead the household.
Through therapy, I’ve come to understand where that comes from. It’s a response to being failed by authority figures; parents, elders, people who should have known better but didn’t. When authority fails you repeatedly, you learn to save yourself. You start thinking, If not for God and me, I wouldn’t still be here. That breeds self-reliance and skepticism of leadership.
But in African society, that attitude is unsettling. Age, titles, and seniority often demand obedience. People expect you to follow simply because they hold a position. But for me, it doesn’t work that way. I’ve been my own father and mother for so long that I can’t just hand over that trust blindly.
Still, I’m learning that this trait, that is- questioning authority, is both a gift and a trauma response. It protects me from blind submission, but it can also hinder faith and trust. God is teaching me balance: to discern when questioning is wisdom and when obedience is necessary.
I recently watched a short clip that illustrated this perfectly. A father tells his child to move away from a package on their doorstep without explanation. The child obeys immediately, they soon find out that the box contains explosives. At the time, even the father didn’t know. He just suspected and at his command the child respected. Someone commented, “This is why learning obedience matters. You can question later, but sometimes, questioning too soon can cost your life.” That struck me. I’ve always been the child who asks why before acting. But that story reminded me that there’s a time for questioning and a time for trust. Sometimes, I just need to obey first and seek understanding afterward. That’s what God is teaching me now, to say, Lord, I believe; help my unbelief (Mark 9:24 and my most recent tattoo lol!).
I can ask Him: Why are You allowing this? Why did you leave Your Word so complex, knowing it would be so easily twisted by humans to justify slavery, colonialism, and all sorts of injustice to date? And He reminds me to measure every claim about Him against what I know of His character, with what He has made known to me Himself.
Now, I believe what is most dangerous is not having the hard conversations about our beliefs, faith is not the lack of questions but what we do with them. I am learning to appreciate that wrestling with God is a sign of maturity, because you wrestle with what you care about, if you didn’t care you could disregard it completely. So I’m acknowledging that Christianity has often been weaponized against women and yet I know that’s not the heart of Christ—contextually studied, He was radically feminist in His treatment of women—but religion has been used to oppress. In my own Baptist tradition, divorce and remarriage are frowned upon, yet I’ve seen men aware of that support leaders like Trump (who has divorced and remarried multiple times) calling him “God’s chosen”, Completely ignoring that part which would not be the case if that were a woman. That’s not Christianity; that’s patriarchy.
At this point, some might say, this is still not logical and there’s still the issue of faith being blind submission. To this I would add that you’re right. But consider this, why do we worry about someone else being in control? It is less because we want to be in control of everything and more because we don’t trust that the person knows/means well for us. This is part of why the lesson about authority feels so personal. I’ve long feared ending up in a marriage where a man hides behind religion to control me. But through this season, I see God working on me—teaching me discernment, showing me that submission, as described in Scripture, only makes sense when the husband truly submits to Christ. So yes, I still question authority, but now I’m learning to do so prayerfully, with procedure, with reverence. To test everything against God’s character, not just my logic and definitely not just someone else’s take.
Still, this doesn’t change the fact that faith itself requires humility. It’s inherently illogical and irrational as I’ve written about before. It demands that we walk blindly, trusting deeply in something not of this world. And there is so little in this world that’s trustworthy that we often project that insecurity unto God. For me, my trust goes back to my own encounter with God in 2007, when I tried to take my life. That moment was my conversion story, and even though it’s nearly two decades old now, I still anchor my faith on the memory of that encounter. Without it, I would be clinging on to what people have said rather than what i have experienced.
Faith also requires surrender; the willingness to admit, I do not know better. In fact, I know nothing at all. The best we can do is know why we believe: Why this God? Why not another? What do we hope to gain from believing? If faith is pursued for gain, it collapses easily. It must be rooted in surrender. Rick Warren puts it perfectly in The Purpose Driven Life: “It’s not about you.” We like to think our lives belong to us, but they don’t. It’s about our Maker. The story is His. He chose our parents, our birthplace, and circumstances—things we can’t control. Our role is to submit to the Potter, allowing Him to mold us, move us, and shape us as He sees fit.
Believing in God while clinging to total autonomy is contradictory. You can’t truly believe in God and still think you have control over everything. The only thing we can decree or declare is, Thy will be done.
So my prayer has become: Father, I believe this is Your will for me. Please grant me what I need to do it well—and if it’s not Your will, remove it. That is the humility of surrender: constant communication, constant dependence.
Even when I’m not outwardly questioning God, I can still resist Him by insisting on my own way, by following my heart instead of His direction. So the lesson remains: surrendering your understanding is necessary and its not so scary when you’re surrendering not out of fear but out of love and faith that though this doesn’t make sense, the being who I’m trusting in, loves me and wants the best for me, actually wants the best for this world. Then you can pray “God, I believe, help my unbelief. I do not understand, help me to understand”.
That’s what God is teaching me this season: humility, surrender, and the balance between questioning and trust. It has required disillusionment, but that disillusionment has freed me too.
Because faith, at its core, isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about knowing Who holds them, and learning to rest in that truth.
That’s where I am right now, learning obedience without losing discernment, and questioning without losing faith.
God is teaching me to balance both, and for that, I am deeply grateful.
Let me know what God is teaching you in this season.
