If you’ve read the last two entries in this series, you know the story. I walked through a long, quiet unraveling. First came the gentle undoing—the slow loosening of structures, roles, and rhythms I had built my life around. Then came the fog—the deconstruction and disorientation that stripped away what I thought I knew about God, myself, and the faith I had long called home.
If the first blog was about gentle unraveling, then this one is about what happens when the unraveling gives way to silence.
Last time, we stepped out of the familiar. We said goodbye to what once felt rooted. We acknowledged the loss of identity that came when the scaffolding of life fell apart. But what comes next isn't clarity—it’s the fog.
And let me tell you, the fog doesn’t play by the same rules. This is the season where the old compass spins. Where prayers echo and answers evaporate. Where you wonder if you’re wandering...or being led.
This post is part of a four-part series exploring my deeply personal (yet, community-oriented) journey of spiritual transformation—through deconstruction, disorientation, and reorientation. Each post is a window into a different season of the path: the unraveling, the wandering, the returning, and the re-forming. My hope is that, as you read, you’ll feel less alone in your questions and more aware of the God who walks with us through every chapter.
We continue our slow walk through Samaria this week and will discuss our union with God Almighty more. We previously discussed how sin is "missing the mark," and—said another way—"the mark" (or the bullseye) is union with God.
Last time we were together [Yeah, I know, it's been a minute. Welcome to my life of being inconsistently consistent.], we stretched ourselves to read with curiosity, a Christ-centered justice, and the desire to courageously co-create beauty with Him. We focused less on "the answer" and more on considering perspectives and then aligning those perspectives with what we know about the character of God. We are practicing this because, too often in Christianity, we are told what to think instead of how to think. We rush to the conclusion and application and don't appreciate the journey.
I've wrestled with this text. Not just these few verses but trying to keep the narrative together while still calling out the essence of John's viewpoint in small snippets so we can meditate on it.
I recently wrote a blog entitled The God of Darkness. When I hit "publish," I knew it was from the depths of my soul. I wrote it "from the other side" after a long season of disorientation. It was also one of the few blogs where I received an unusual amount of emails and texts in response because some of those individuals who read it had been or were going through a similar season.
These last couple of years have been what I would describe as a "dark night of the soul." It has other words, although none were in my vocabulary during this season: Disorientation. Deconstruction of faith (not my belief in Jesus). Darkness. Disruption. It isn't depression in the emotional sense; it is spiritual, and I've found it quite common in believers who seek Him.
Before we begin, a word to those who feel unsure: If you’ve read this series and found yourself confused or disconnected, that’s okay. These words may not land for everyone, and they’re not meant to. Some of you have lived this. You’ve walked through the unraveling. You’ve sat in the silence. You’ve known the ache of not knowing where God is—and the quiet joy of finding He never left. If you’ve emailed me or commented to say, "Me too," or, “Amen,” thank you. Your encouragement has been a kind companion, especially given how much I wrestled to put this long experience into words.