Give God the Pen Back
Most nights, I talk to God while lying in bed.
The house is quiet. Everyone else is asleep. No one needs anything from me. No one is watching. It’s just me, awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, finally able to hear my own thoughts without interruption.
That’s where my prayers happen.
Not because I’m desperate or at a breaking point—but because I genuinely enjoy the conversation. I don’t pray because something pushes me to. I pray because I want to talk. Because I want Him involved in my day-to-day, in my thoughts, in my decisions, in my mess.
And if I’m being honest, my prayers are… chaotic.
They’re sporadic. They go wildly off track. I ramble. I’ll start praying and then trail off into some random thought, realize I stopped praying altogether, laugh at myself, and circle back like,
Okay, sorry—where were we?
It’s not polished. It’s not scripted. It’s not pretty.
It’s real.
Lately, when I pray, I’m mostly asking God for discernment.
Not big, dramatic answers. Not lightning-bolt clarity. Just guidance. Daily guidance. How to do things the right way.
Or more accurately—how to do things differently than I have been (because, let's be honest, some things- just are not working).
I ask Him how to get certain things right. How to move through life better. How to make choices that don’t leave me second-guessing myself later.
And the older I get, the more I realize I can’t do that alone. I need Jesus involved in the everyday stuff, not just the emergencies.
There isn’t much I’m afraid to ask God out loud—but sometimes I do feel awkward. Like… Hey, it’s me again. Same question. Still learning.
And I laugh. Because I know He already knows.
Do I get frustrated when answers don’t come immediately?
Yes. Absolutely.
Mainly because my relationship with God wasn’t always like this.
As a kid, church felt forced. Belief felt forced. And that pushed me away—not just from church, but from God entirely. I walked away for years. I explored different religious paths. I searched. I questioned. I drifted.
And what I’ve come to understand now is this: it’s not that God takes a long time to answer.
It’s that it sometimes takes us a long time to see the answer.
To hear it.
To read it.
To feel it.
When you’re disconnected from God, that gap feels heavy. Lonely. Like texting a friend and waiting… and waiting… and waiting for a response. And then one day, they finally reply—and you realize they weren’t ignoring you. You just weren’t in the right place to hear them yet.
I try to read my Bible every single day.
My intention is always the morning—but I’m usually half asleep, rereading the same sentence five times and retaining none of it. So I save it for later, when my mind is clearer, and I can actually absorb it.
Most days, I open to a random page. Sometimes I continue a chapter I’ve already started. Sometimes I use a Bible study book to help guide me or explain things better.
I don’t open it wondering why I’m doing it—I open it expecting to learn something.
I always expect something to speak back.
And honestly? Every time it does, I run and tell my husband like a kid who just discovered a magic trick. Because it’s that cool, it’s never a coincidence. It’s God. And He works in ways that still stop me in my tracks.
The emotions hit differently depending on what I’ve prayed about.
At night, I’m already softer. More emotional. That’s why I pray then—when everyone is asleep, and it’s just God and me, and I can feel everything fully without holding it in.
Sometimes the verses feel comforting.
Sometimes they feel like relief.
Sometimes they feel like being seen.
And sometimes? I feel completely called out. Exposed. Corrected.
One night, I prayed about something that had been weighing on me for years.
I had practiced witchcraft for a season of my life, and the Bible is very clear about its warnings against it. That night, I asked God—quietly and honestly—if I could truly be forgiven. If I could still go to heaven. If I had ruined everything because of a period of wrong beliefs.
The next day, I came across Romans 10:13:
“For everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”
That answer mattered more than most I’ve ever received—because fear had lived there for a long time. And God met it with clarity, not condemnation.
That’s when I realized something.
God doesn’t just answer the questions we’re brave enough to ask.
He answers the ones we don’t even realize we’re still carrying.
Later that night, in my usual midnight conversation with Him, I admitted something I laugh about—but wrestle with constantly. I’m a major overthinker. Even when someone tells me they forgive me, I still assume there’s a part of them that secretly doesn’t.
It’s a toxic trait of mine.
I wasn’t talking about anyone specific in that moment… except Him.
Because if I’m being honest, I think part of me still wonders if forgiveness really sticks—even when God Himself says it does.
And that’s when it hit me: fear doesn’t just live in our past mistakes.
Sometimes it hides in how little we trust what God has already said.
Which is probably why the next verse that clung to me so tightly wasn’t about forgiveness at all—but about listening.
“But all who listen to me will live in peace, untroubled by fear of harm.”
Listening does not equal hearing.
Hearing is knowing better.
Listening is doing better.
When you stop ignoring red flags, gut feelings, and truths you already know… life gets calmer.
So much anxiety, drama, and self-inflicted pain come from ignoring the wisdom we already have access to. Safety isn't found in control, people-pleasing, or staying in harmful situations.
It's found in wisdom, obedience, and boundaries. Your peace is not coming from luck, my friend- it is coming from alignment.
In those moments, it feels like God is reminding me to stay disciplined. To keep my head on straight. To practice discernment—even when it’s uncomfortable.
My relationship with God didn’t just evolve.
It restarted.
And in the last six months, especially, it has changed in ways I never expected. I had so much happening internally that I finally admitted I needed help beyond myself— and I needed the best mentor I could ask for.
God has taught me—slowly—that learning doesn’t happen all at once. It requires patience, discipline, the ability to be corrected, and humility.
With God, you learn at your own pace—and somehow He manages to be patient with you the whole time. And let’s be honest… we’re all kind of a mess.
Yes. I see you in the back. You too.
But somewhere along the way, that mess stops feeling shameful.
Because patience like that—the kind God gives—doesn’t come from disappointment. It comes from love. From knowing we’re human and from staying when we’re still figuring things out.
So yes, I know it sounds silly sometimes. I still feel silly sometimes.
But I’m not ashamed to say I believe in the Almighty Lord.
My love for Him runs so deep now that nothing could ever break it again. I was dragged down the stairs of hell and still saved by Jesus.
There is nothing silly about believing God speaks truth.
If there’s one thing I know for sure now, it’s this:
Give God the pen back. Quit taking it from Him and let Him write, sis. He’s got this.
If this space has encouraged you, helped you breathe, or reminded you you’re not alone, your support keeps it going.
Find yourself in a new journal🎀
