By Nomathemba Pearl Dzinotyiwei

There are moments on the spiritual journey when faith feels like a whisper in the dark—a fragile echo rather than a roar. In such times, we often find ourselves wondering, “Where is God in all of this?” I’ve walked that valley. And if I had known then what I know now, when God says, “Be still and know that I am God,” I would have surrendered sooner.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I wrestled. I was anxious, stressed, and deeply discouraged because I couldn’t keep up the illusion of being the perpetually joyful, “blessed and highly favored” Christian I thought I was supposed to be. I closed my eyes to pray and felt nothing but disconnection. I couldn’t understand why others seemed to radiate peace while I drowned in despair.

Then I read a tweet from @Nxalati8 that struck a chord:

“Have you ever been out of prayers? Probably have prayed every prayer you can to get out of a situation until you didn’t know what to say to God anymore…”

Yes. That was me.

There were seasons I couldn’t pray. I sat in silence, simply acknowledging the presence of God. That silence became sacred. That stillness, my lifeline. It was in that emptiness that I truly began to understand that God never left me. Even when the world around me fell apart—when I was surrounded by darkness, under spiritual attack, walking through the valley of the shadow of death—God was still there. Watching. Guarding. Holding me back from the brink of madness and death.

Reading Iyanla Vanzant’s Value in the Valley helped me name what I was going through. Her words gave me language for the wilderness season, where light seems scarce but faith is being fortified.

The Turning Point

The turning point came when I accepted what fundamentalists often reject: my ancestral lineage and the gifts passed down to me. I embraced the tools of my healing—ritual, memory, prayer, and spiritual authority rooted not just in Christianity, but in the stories of those who walked before me. That’s when the light started to return.

Critics came for me. They still do. But Jesus said, “He who is not for us is against us.” And “If you’re not helping me gather, you’re scattering.” So I keep gathering—truth, wisdom, courage. I refuse to circle the same mountain again for the comfort of those who neither carry my burden nor walk my path.

Some people, like the Pharisees, are quick to write the rules and even quicker to abandon you when those same rules break your back. But I’ve found my rhythm in the silence. In the stillness. In the valley.

And in that quiet place, I’ve learned: God is near. The ancestors are present. And the journey—no matter how painful—is shaping something sacred in me.

Journal Prompt

When was the last time you felt God’s presence in your silence? What gifts or messages might be waiting for you in the valley?

Affirmation

Even in the darkness, I am divinely guided and protected. I am never alone.