Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about testimony—specifically, how easy it is to stand up and shout when the Lord does something we perceive as “good.” When He heals, when the check clears, when the provision comes—those are the stories we love to tell, and rightly so. God is good, and those moments deserve a “Glory to God!”
But what about the other testimonies? The ones that don’t look so good from the outside. The ones born in the middle of pain, silence, or confusion. The stories that don’t come wrapped in a bow, but instead carry tears, disappointment, and long seasons of questioning. What about the fruit from being laid out on your face before the Lord, asking why? I asked God, “Why don’t we hear more testimonies about the dark times?” And He gently responded, “Why don’t you do it then?” So here I am.
Many people know that the girls’ dad left us very suddenly. It’s been nearly eight years since we’ve seen him. What most people don’t know is what happened afterward.
In early 2018, still new in my walk with the Lord, I was blindsided by divorce papers—served without warning at my sister’s house in Maryland. I had truly believed God would restore my marriage, and when that paper hit my hands, it felt like the floor disappeared. I had a full-blown panic attack. I couldn’t breathe. My sister had to call an ambulance. Hours later, still in shock, sitting outside in the dark night, I looked up. I whispered, “God, if You are truly real, You better show me.” It wasn’t a challenge. It was a desperate cry. I didn’t need a lecture. I needed a Savior.
Over the next year, I saw highs and lows—some beautiful, some deeply painful. But I decided to pursue God, believing He had something for me. Not necessarily wanting Him for who He was, but for what He could give. That would change later.
After my divorce was finalized in 2019, I followed the Lord’s lead and returned to my hometown. Just weeks later, after a difficult text exchange, the girls’ dad called the police to request a welfare check. It shook me and made me really angry. I had done everything I knew to obey, so why would God allow that? I asked Him plainly, “Why did You let that happen?” And He answered, “Because I’m going to deal with your pride.” Wait—my pride? I know two things about human nature: we do not want to take accountability, and we do not like to suffer. I had two choices at that moment. Take accountability, let the Lord deal with me as He sees fit, or be angry and harden my heart.
In early 2018, while praying about my situation, I’d heard the Lord speak to my heart for the first time in a way I knew was Him. He said, “A day of reckoning is coming.” I looked it up, confused because I had no idea what the word “reckoning” meant, and landed on Isaiah 2:12: “For the Lord of Heaven’s Armies has a day of reckoning. He will punish the proud and mighty and bring down everything that is exalted.” Honestly, I didn’t think that word was about me at the time. But here I was. The following month was one of the hardest of my life. I was depressed. I went to work, cared for my kids, and survived—but that was about it. One night, my daughters begged me to go to church. I didn’t shower. I barely pulled myself together. I planned to sit in the back and leave early. But the Lord had other plans.
It was a prayer service that night. No sermon. Just prayer. A friend insisted I sit with her. As I stood there sobbing—because honestly, that’s all I could do—my pastor walked over, looked me square in the eye, and said: “You did not make a mistake coming home. He has you. He is with you. He loves you.” I broke. And then… I felt it. A deep, still warmth and peace washed over me. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. But it was real. I felt loved. Loved by a God I could not see yet suddenly knew was with me. That night, He gave me this verse: 1 Peter 1:8 “Though you have not seen Him, you love Him; and even though you do not see Him now, you believe in Him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy.” Nothing physically changed that night. There was no money miracle. No healing. No shouting or falling on the floor. But something far deeper happened: I believed Him. I loved Him. And I knew I was seen—even in the dark.
There is so much more to my testimony. But this is what I want to shout today, because I think someone else needs to know that you can testify even when there’s no physical proof. You can testify when the miracle was inside your heart, when the healing was your pride being crushed so His presence could rise. Even though you don’t see Him, even though it still hurts sometimes, even though the story isn’t wrapped up in a neat little bow—you can still testify. Because He is still good. And He is still there.
(1 Peter 1:8) Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy,
