Obviously, blind faith has blind in it for a reason. You’re just supposed to let go and let God. And I have that. I do let go. I trust that the world works out. I believe—fully—that God is on my side.
But sometimes I wonder… when does it become a clash?
A collision between blind faith and human emotion?
Am I going against God because I feel hopelessness?
Because I feel anxiety?
Because I’m tired and confused and, sometimes, afraid?
I don’t think that makes me any less of a godly woman.
But it feels like the world tells me otherwise.
They say if you have faith, you shouldn’t feel fear.
They say if you trust God, you won’t feel anxious.
They say that sadness means you’re doubting Him.
But here’s the thing—I love Him.
I trust Him.
And I still feel anxious sometimes.
There is nothing without another. Joy needs sorrow. Faith needs questioning. Peace needs the storm to mean something.
And I just don’t understand why people don’t understand that.
Why am I looked at as if I’m any less of a Christian—just because I feel what I feel?
Let’s make something clear.
Blind faith doesn’t mean emotional blindness.
You’re not “going against God” by feeling anxious, sad, or hopeless.
You’re being human. And what a sacred thing that is—to be fully human and still turn toward God.
The Psalms are full of lament. Full of crying out. David—“a man after God’s own heart”—literally begged God to rescue him, asked why He was silent, admitted when he was depressed.
Even Jesus—God in flesh—wept.
He sweat blood.
He said, “My God, why have You forsaken me?”
And still… He trusted. Still, He believed.
So no, your emotions do not disqualify your faith.
They are part of it.
They are the very place where God meets you, holds you, and whispers: “Even here, I am.”
There is no shame in being a godly woman who also feels everything deeply.
That’s not weakness—that’s spiritual courage.
And here’s where it goes deeper:
Faith isn’t rooted in a label. Not Christianity, not Hinduism, not Buddhism. It’s deeper than that.
It’s spiritual.
It’s a connection.
It’s alignment.
It’s something sacred that rises up in us and says:
“Even if I don’t have the words, I still believe.”
And with that spirit comes so much anxiety…
And so much ease.
Both can exist at once.
We don’t need to shove ourselves into boxes: Christian. Non-Christian. This, that, and the third.
We believe because we feel God.
We feel spirit.
We feel truth.
I feel the Lord in me.
And the Lord knows my heart.
He knows my truest intention.
It’s not less holy to be human.
We are in this human experience for a reason.
God wants us to feel.
God wants us to experience.
God wants us to know what it’s like to be on the bottom—so we can recognize grace when we’re back on top.
There are no flowers without rain.
No sunshine without a storm.
I want this to be held onto—especially in this generation.
Because this generation is obsessed with labeling. With sorting. With telling people what they are and what they’re not.
But we know what we are.
We are rooted.
In faith.
In spirit.
In something bigger than words.
Even if our minds waver—
That doesn’t mean our trust does.
If this resonated with you, let it sit in your soul.
Let it remind you: You are allowed to feel.
You are allowed to cry, to question, to tremble.
And still—
You are faithful.
You are holy.
You are His.
Still, you believe.
