Faith in the Shadows.

Some nights, that quote cuts deeper than it comforts. Because faith isn’t always light and peace and answered prayers. Sometimes, it’s standing in the ruins of everything you believed was holy and wondering how God could have allowed such pain , especially from the very hands that were supposed to bless you.

I was raised to see the collar as sacred. To believe that behind it stood men who carried God’s mercy. But behind some collars, there was something darker , something that broke the trust of children who only wanted to be close to God. You don’t come back from that kind of betrayal easily. The trauma seeps into your bones, into your prayers, into the way you flinch at holiness and ache for it at the same time.

I still pray. I still believe. But belief now feels heavier , like carrying a cross I never asked for. There are nights I look at the ceiling and whisper, “Why me, Lord? Why any of us?”
And all I hear back is silence.

Yet somehow, I keep going. Not because I’m strong, but because even in the silence, I still believe He’s weeping with me. That He saw. That He knows. And that one day, justice , divine, perfect justice, will meet mercy.

Until then, I hold onto that fragile thread of faith, frayed but unbroken.
Because even if I wish He didn’t trust me so much… I still trust Him.