I stayed up too late last night—so late it was basically morning. By 4 a.m., I finally gave in to sleep. Four hours later, I woke up at 8:45—five minutes before my alarm.
Perks of remote work and living a time zone ahead of my team: it looks like discipline, but really, it’s just geography.
Still, I was exhausted. The kind of tired where your body’s awake, but your soul is groaning, “Why are we doing this?”
I dragged through my meetings until a little past 4 p.m. That’s when I usually break my fast. I prayed—told God exactly what I needed, said amen—and ate.
By 4:30, the fatigue was winning. I promised myself a “quick rest.” We all know that’s code for goodbye, afternoon.
Some Background
Last November, I switched churches. Nothing dramatic—no fights, no politics. But I’d spent so much time in that space debating the basics of faith that I couldn’t grow there. Staying felt like slowing down.
So, I left. My older brother came too. It’s been nine months now, and I know it was the right move.
The Knock
Mid-nap, I heard a knock at my door. My younger sibling said someone was asking for me. I ignored it.
Then came another knock—from my mom. That’s when I knew the nap was done.
“The pastor from your old church is here to see you,” she said.
Unexpected? Yes. Late? Definitely. Random? Maybe not. God doesn’t really do random.
The Conversation
My brother and I sat down with him. He asked the obvious: Why did you leave? Was there a conflict?
“No,” I said. “It was simply a necessary change.”
He mentioned our old roles—me on guitar, my brother in audiovisual. I told him the truth: right now, I need to sit and receive the Word, not rush back into responsibilities.
Because when you’re rebuilding your faith, you can’t lead from an empty cup. First, you listen. Then, you serve.
He encouraged us to pray about returning. I promised I would. But deep down, I know my time there is over.
Moving Forward
I’m growing where I am now. I’ve joined the Sunday school team and plan to help the ushers soon. These roles let me serve while still keeping my heart open to the message.
Sometimes moving forward means you don’t go back—
even when the past comes knocking.