By Rachel Dunham
April 23, 2025

I never thought I’d be the type to talk about faith.

To be honest, I used to roll my eyes at people who brought up God in casual conversation. It always felt like some kind of sales pitch. But life has a funny way of humbling you when you least expect it.

It started last year. I hit a point where everything just felt… off. I wasn’t sleeping. I was anxious all the time. My job felt meaningless, and my relationships were falling apart one by one. No dramatic disaster, just this slow unraveling of everything I thought I had under control.

One night, I sat in the dark in my living room, my phone in my hand, ready to text someone—anyone—but I didn’t even know what to say. Instead, I opened YouTube and randomly clicked on a live church stream. It wasn’t planned. I just felt like I needed something that didn’t sound like my own voice echoing back at me.

What surprised me wasn’t the sermon or the music. It was the quiet moment after the stream ended, when the screen went black and I sat there in the silence. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone.

That night, I dug out a Bible I hadn’t touched in years. I started reading one passage a day, nothing crazy—just enough to sit with it, to think about something bigger than my stress. I didn’t tell anyone. It wasn’t about impressing anyone. It was about trying to feel whole again.

Slowly, I started watching more services online. I found one that felt real and unpolished, with a pastor who didn’t pretend to have it all figured out. That made me feel seen. Then one Sunday, I got in my car and actually went to church. Just sat in the back row, quiet, heart pounding like I was doing something illegal.

But when the people there smiled at me—really smiled, not the fake kind—I felt a little piece of me come back to life.

It didn’t fix everything overnight. But I noticed the panic attacks faded. I started sleeping better. I found the courage to end a toxic relationship I’d been holding onto out of fear. I reconnected with my younger sister. I even got a better job—not through some miracle, but because I finally believed I was worth something.

So no, I don’t think prayer is a magic fix. I’m not going to pretend life is perfect now.

But I will say this: talking to God through Jesus, even when I didn’t know what to say, gave me a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in years. Reading the Bible helped me feel like I wasn’t drifting aimlessly anymore. And going to church—even online at first—reminded me I wasn’t alone in this world.

And maybe that’s the point.

You don’t need to be perfect. You don’t need to have all the answers. Just show up. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s quiet. Even if it’s from your couch with tear-streaked cheeks and a heart full of doubt.

Just show up.